The Dancing Girl of Gades/Chapter 15

HE DANCERS vanished. The women sprawling on the couches fled. Balbus, and all his guests, staggered to their feet.

"Cæsar!" said Balbus.

Cæsar smiled genially. If he had noticed Tros yet, he gave no sign of it.

"No, no, Balbus! Pray be seated. Pray don't disturb yourself."

His voice, a shade ironical, was reassuring. There was no hint in it of violence. But behind him were more armed men than Tros could count from where he stood. They were formed up in a solid phalanx in the hall.

"Don't let me interrupt your gaiety," said Cæsar. "I have already had my supper."

"There came news of your death!" Balbus stammered.

"I overheard it. Does it seem true to you?" asked Cæsar, smiling again.

His eyes began to scrutinize the guests, who saluted as he noticed them, but he ignored Tros at the corner of the dais. He appeared to Tros to be deliberately giving Balbus time to recover his wits. Tros, the golden bugle in his left, kept his right hand on his sword-hilt, listening, trying to discover how many armed men Cæsar had with him. None noticed Pkauchios, until suddenly Chloe screamed as the Egyptian sprang at the dais from behind Tros—mad, foaming at the mouth.

"Slay!" he screamed, striking at Tros with his left hand, trying to push him forward toward Balbus, then rushing at Cæsar.

Tros tripped him. He fell on his back on the dais, striking with a wave-edged dagger at the air.

"Dog of a Samothracian!" he yelled. Frenzied, he leaped to his feet with the energy of an old ape at bay and sprang at Tros, who knocked him down again. A legionary stepped out from the ranks at Cæsar's back and calmly drew a sword across his throat.

"Now I am no longer a freed woman. I am free!" said Chloe. "And Balbus, you need never pay that debt!"

Cæsar looked bored by the interruption. Slaves came and dragged away Pkauchios' body, Balbus' steward superintending, making himself very inconspicuous. A wine-bearer poured choice Falernian over the blood on the dais carpet, and another slave mopped it up with his own long loin-cloth, running naked from the room. The steward threw salt on the carpet and covered the spot with a service napkin of blue linen.

Chloe stepped straight up to Cæsar and knelt smiling up at him with all the charm she could contrive.

"Imperator," she said, "I am Chloe, who danced for you in Gaul—she whom Horatius Verres trusted."

Horatius Verres stepped out from behind the ranks of legionaries and stood between Tros and Cæsar, watching with a quiet smile on his handsome face. He was dressed as a slave in a drab-colored tunic of coarse cloth.

"Tut-tut!" said Cæsar. "Go and clothe yourself!"

Horatius Verres made a humorous, helpless gesture. Balbus' steward touched him from behind and beckoned. He shrugged his shoulders and went with the steward to be rearrayed in borrowed finery. Tros made up his mind there were not so many men at Cæsar's back; he raised the bugle to his lips and Cæsar noticed him at last.

"Your men are here already," he said. "They are behind me!"

As if in answer to his words there began a roar of fighting. A centurion barked an order. About half of Cæsar's own men faced about and vanished toward the front of the house, but Cæsar took no notice whatever of the disturbance.

"Balbus," he said, "a noble enemy is preferable to any faithless friend. The story goes you sent men into Gaul to murder me."

Chloe was still kneeling. She caught her breath and glanced sharply at Balbus' face. Balbus, deathly white, threw up his right hand.

"Cæsar, by the immortal gods I swear—"

Something choked Balbus. He coughed. He had become aware that Tros was staring at him. He drew three breaths before he found his voice again:

"—that sorcerer, now dead, that Egyptian Pkauchios—and—"

He turned and looked straight at Tros, began to raise his arm to point at him. Tros drew his sword.

"Balbus," said Cæsar, "you have been well served! Well for you that Tros of Samothrace put into Gades!"

Balbus gasped. Tros stood with drawn sword watching Cæsar's face. A centurion came pushing past the legionaries and whispered to Cæsar from behind him. Horatius Verres reentered the room, handsome, smiling, splendid in a Roman tunic with a broad blue border, and stood close to Tros again, glancing at the drawn sword with a humorous expression.

Balbus' brain was wavering between surrender to the fumes of wine and a sort of half hysterical recovery. Tros' mind was on Orwic and his men, but he could not fight his way past Cæsar's legionaries. Cæsar fascinated him. The man's cool self-command, his manners, daring and superb contempt for any genius less comprehensive than his own stirred grudging admiration.

Chloe broke the silence—"Imperator—"

But Cæsar checked her with a gesture of his left hand. He was listening. Tros, too, caught the sound of footsteps surging over the porch into the house.

"Orwic!" he shouted.

There came an answering yell, and half the legionaries behind Cæsar faced about.

"Orwic, hold your men!" Tros roared in Gaulish. Then, watching Cæsar's face, "Let none escape! Let a hundred of your men surround the house and guard all exits!"

He laughed. He heard Orwic's boyish voice repeating the order to the Eskauldenak.

"Cæsar," he said, "I have more than five men to your one! The camp is empty, the Roman legion went to a burning village—"

"Yes," said Cæsar, "but that was not your doing, Tros, so you should not boast of it."

"Cæsar!" said Balbus suddenly, recovering his wits, "this is not your province!"

He glanced at Tros, a fever of excitement in his eyes. The legionaries behind Cæsar moved alertly to protect him.

"The illustrious Tros and I are enemies," said Cæsar, "whose activities are not confined to provinces or marred by malice. We use common sense. I have not interfered with your government, Balbus. You must pardon me if I have interrupted even your—" he glanced at the stage—"amusement."

ROS' brain was speculating furiously. There were only two things Cæsar could be doing. Either he had surprizes up his sleeve and was talking to gain time, or else he was deliberately trying to bring Balbus to his senses with a view to getting his gratitude and making use of him. In either event, time was all-important.

"Cæsar," he said, "why did you come to Gades? What do you want?"

"Yes, Cæsar, what do you want?" demanded Balbus.

Cæsar smiled.

"For one thing, courtesy!" he answered. "Balbus, I consider you a churlish host! You offer me no seat, no welcome. You oppose me guiltily, as if I caught you in the act of treachery. Whereas I came for your sake."

But Balbus' reeling brain sensed nothing but his own embarrassment; he was too drunk to take a hint.

"You came unvited [sic]!" he said, sneering.

Cæsar smiled again and glanced at Tros.

"I think we both did! Tros, for what reason did you come to Gades?"

"To prevent you from invading Britain, Cæsar!"

"Imperator, that is the truth!" said Chloe, and she would have said more, but Cæsar silenced her with a frown.

"Are you a slave?" he asked.

"No, Cæsar, I am free!"

"Then go to Horatius Verres and keep still."

Chloe sprang gaily to Verres' side and threw her arms around him, kissed him, or else whispered in his ear. Tros suspected the latter. Orwic was having trouble with the Eskualdenak, who were anxious to begin looting Balbus' treasures. In the outer hall his voice kept rising sharply. There were hot answers in almost incomprehensible Gaulish, and every once in a while a Roman centurion added his staccato warning to the noise. Horatius Verres spoke at last.

"Imperator," he said quietly, "I had the honor to report to you that Tros refused to murder Balbus, and you saw that when Pkauchios rushed at you, it was Tros who prevented. Now Chloe tells me that while Tros and Balbus supped together they discussed—"

"Silence!" snapped Balbus angrily. "Cæsar, will you take the word of a dancing girl against me?"

Cæsar eyed him with amused contempt.

"If she should testify for you, should I accept her evidence then?" he asked. Then after a pause, "Let Horatius Verres speak."

"Tros even left a pledge with the committee of nineteen to guarantee that he would not kill Balbus."

Balbus snorted.

"A committee of nineteen? I never heard of them!"

"You shall know them well," said Cæsar. "Continue, Verres."

"And while Tros and Balbus supped together they discussed—"

"Stop!" commanded Balbus, almost choking. "Cæsar, this is not your province! You have no authority to—"

Cæsar raised his right hand with a gesture so magnificent that Balbus checked a word midway and stared at him open-mouthed. Chloe was whispering again in Verres' ear. Cæsar nodded to Verres.

"They discussed what Tros had previously said to me before the committee of nineteen—how that his father, dying, prophesied he should eventually render Cæsar a great service."

Balbus breathed heavily and felt for something to lean against. His steward stepped up to the dais and, lifting his arm, placed it on his own shoulder.

"My noble master has so burdened himself with public duties that he faints," he said, beckoning to a slave to bring wine.

"I suggest he has had wine enough," said Cæsar. "You may continue, Verres."

Chloe was watching Tros out of the corner of her eye. Her breast fluttered with excitement. Verres spoke:

"While Balbus and Tros supped together, they discussed whether it were true that you invaded Britain for the sake of pearls."

"I invaded Britain," said Cæsar, smiling slightly with the corners of his eyes as he saw Tros glare at Chloe, "because the Britons intrigued with the Gauls against me, despite all warnings. But I confess the thought of pearls did interest me. I have in mind to make a breast-plate of them for the statue of the Venus Genetrix in Rome, from whose immortal womb I trace descent," he added pompously. It was his first hint of vulgarity, his first betrayal of a streak of weakness. "What else, Horatius Verres?"

"Tros, who promised thirty pearls to Chloe to procure for him the interview with Balbus, discussed with Balbus at the supper table how he might offer three hundred pearls to yourself, Imperator, as an inducement to you to bury enmity!"

The lie slid off his handsome lips as smoothly as the passing moment. Balbus, his steward urging with a whisper, leaped at opportunity at last.

"I told him he should offer at least a thousand pearls," he blustered, avoiding Tros' eyes. "Cæsar, the words had hardly left my lips when you burst in on us!"

Horatius Verres, hand to his mouth, stepped back a pace.

"I told you I serve Cæsar!" he whispered to Tros.

"Have you the pearls?" asked Cæsar, and Tros saw light at last, knew he must make a sacrifice, but saw he held the situation in the hollow of his hand.

"I have them on my ship," he answered, standing forth and facing Cæsar.

But his eyes were busy numbering the men at Cæsar's back. Beyond the legionaries, in the gloom of the fountained courtyard, he could dimly make out Orwic and the Eskualdenak crowding the Romans.

"I have here five men to your one, Cæsar, and I care nothing for your friendship."

"Have I offered it?" asked Cæsar, adjusting his wreath with one forefinger. "Let us have no brawling, Tros. The place smells like a tavern—" he sniffed disgustedly—"but—" he bowed with mock politeness—"perhaps our host Balbus will excuse us if we act like sober men!"

"Cæsar, I could have slain you when you entered. I could slay you now," Tros answered. "I would hold my own life cheap at the price of serving Gaul and Spain, but the gods have laid no such task on me. Ten tyrants might replace you if I slew the one. I came here for my own sake. I will pay three hundred pearls for what I want. Agree with me or—"

He raised the golden bugle to his lips. Orwic began shouting to him:

"Tros! Tros! What is happening?"

"Await my bugle blast," Tros answered. "Cæsar, is it yes or no?"

HE LEGIONARIES raised their shields an inch or two, but Cæsar spread both arms out to restrain them.

"Better to die a thousand times than to live in fear of death," he said, "but I see, Tros, that you know that. Since neither you nor I fear death, we may stand on common ground. What is it you require of me?"

"You named me pirate," Tros growled at him.

"I withdraw that gladly, though you sunk my ships. You have served Rome by saving Gades from the mob. I will write it," said Cæsar.

"You owe my friend Simon of Gades three million sesterces," said Tros.

"If that were only all!" said Cæsar, smiling with an air of mock humility. "Debts, Tros, seem as necessary to a statesman as is the appetite that makes us eat. Your friend Simon shall be paid."

"How? When?" Tros asked him.

A flash of humor blazed in Cæsar's eyes. He looked at Balbus long and keenly.

"Balbus—how? When?" he asked calmly.

Balbus bit his lip.

"Come now, Balbus. Tros saved your life, and it is easier for me to act against you than to threaten you. How shall Simon be paid? That legion that went to Porta Valleculæ is on its way back, Balbus, shouting, 'Cæsar is imperator!' No, no, Tros, there is a truce between us. Stay! I merely wish that Balbus should choose his allegiance of your free will, Balbus—of your free will! You are under no distraint. As you wisely remarked, I have no authority in Gades, even though the committee of nineteen has begged me, on my way between the harbor and your house, to add Spain to my province and appoint my own officials. They amused me, but it might amuse me more to—"

"Cæsar, I beg you to permit me to assume the debt!" said Balbus.

"I am afraid it will keep you poor and out of mischief for a long time," Cæsar remarked. "If I consent to allow to escape my mind irregularities that I have heard of, would it be agreeable to you to confer in future with that committee of nineteen with respect to all local issues?"

Balbus nodded sulkily.

"And to remember, Balbus, that they have my individual protection? If the world were my province—then would you wish to rebuild Gades?"

"Cæsar, I yield," said Balbus. "When the day comes that you strike at Pompey, I am with you."

"Tut-tut!" remarked Cæsar. "Who spoke of striking at Pompey? But I see Tros grows impatient. He is thinking of that legion on its way back from Porta Valleculæ. Tros, you are a greater man than I believed you. A mere pirate would have plundered Gades with the opportunity that you have had. Had you been a rash fool, you would have tried to kill me. You might even have succeeded and the world would have been the worse for it. So the world owes you a reward, Tros."

"Reward my men!" Tros answered. The Eskauldenak were growing noisier every minute and Orwic's voice was hoarse from trying to restrain them.

"Balbus shall pay them handsomely," said Cæsar. "They have saved his life. The world is richer for our noble Balbus, although he personally will be poorer for a long time! Yes, Tros, I will accept your gift of pearls for the breastplate of the Venus Genetrix, be it understood—a very amiable goddess, my immortal ancestress."

He strode forward to a couch and sat with grace and dignity, letting the scarlet cloak fall carefully to hide his knees.

"You are in haste, I don't doubt. Yes, of course, that legion is returning. Yes, yes. Balbus, may your secretary bring me ink and parchment? I carry my own pen. Tros, I believe you have my seal. Will you return it to me? Balbus, will you kindly see that Tros' men are handsomely paid? They were my men until Tros ran off with them, hah-hah! Very clever of you, Tros, but beware next time we meet! There was three months' pay at that time owing to each man. So I suggest it would be very handsome of you, Balbus, to give each man three months' full pay of a Roman soldier. It might encourage them not to loot the house! Then, will some one go for Simon and for the committee of nineteen? Balbus, I would like to introduce them to you and to recommend them personally to your generous consideration. By the way, Tros, where are those pearls?"

"On the ship," Tros answered.

Chloe came and stood in front of him and smiled. She held her hand out. Tros counted thirty pearls into her palm, holding his sword under his armpit.

"Cæsar!" she said excitedly. "Imperator! Grant me a permission to wear pearls!"

Glancing up from the parchment he was writing, Cæsar frowned. Horatius Verres put a word in:

"Imperator, no permission will be needed. She will be a Roman's wife!"

"Very well. Why interrupt?" said Cæsar, and went on writing. "Balbus," he jerked over his shoulder, "are Tros' men being paid?"

"My treasurer is paying them."

"Has Simon been sent for? Very well. Be good enough to sign this undertaking to pay to Simon three million sesterces in equal payments of three hundred thousand sesterces every three months. You understand, of course, this payment is not taxable. He must receive the whole of it. Tros—"

He stood up, holding out a parchment.

"This confers on you authority to go anywhere you please, including Ostia and Rome. It specifically withdraws the charge of piracy against you and names you the friend of the Roman people. You will find the committee of nineteen on the porch. They will return your one-eyed hostage to you. If you should remove his other eye, he might see his way into trouble less easily.

"However, that is for you to decide. You will meet your friend Simon on your way toward the city gate. Be good enough to take him with you to your ship and to give him those three hundred pearls, which he may bring to me and I will give him this liquidation of his debt in exchange for them. I understand you have a hostage on your ship, one Gaius Suetonius. Release him, please. Not that he has any virtue, but for the sake of his beautiful armor. Have you any other prisoners?"

"Herod, the Jew," Tros answered.

"That scoundrel?" Cæsar nodded. "Send him to me in charge of Gaius Suetonius! Be good enough to avoid collision with the little ship on which I came. It is anchored rather close to yours. You will go to Rome now?"

"Aye!" Tros answered, accepting the parchment.

"Hah! You will try to prevent me from invading Britain! You will find the Romans less reasonable than myself. When you have failed, come and make your peace with me. I will receive you! Thanks for the pearls for the—"

"For the wives of the Roman senators!" said Tros and, bowing, first to Cæsar, then to Balbus, marched out straight through the ranks of Cæsar's bodyguard. He was greeted by a roar from the Eskauldenak:

"Wine! Women! Wine!"

His answering roar, bull-bellowed, cowed them into silence.

"To the ship! Behind me, march! Or I will give the lot of you to Cæsar! Ho there, Conops! Run ahead of me and keep a bright lookout for Simon."

Then he strode under the gloomy cypresses to Balbus' front gate and Orwic fell in step beside him full of eagerness to know exactly what had happened.

"Happened?" he said. "I have promised Druids' pearls to Cæsar's fight o' loves, and I have served Cæsar, though I had the best of him. Rot me all death-bed prophecies. They dull men's wits!"

"What next?" asked Orwic.

"Oar and sail for Ostia, before Cæsar has time to set a trap for us in Rome!"