A Struggle For Rome Volume Iii Part 22

Cethegus, in his youth, had himself composed this inscription.

He took the bust away, and placed it on one side.

"Away with the omen!" he cried.

Lost in thought, he entered his study.

He leaned his helm, shield, and sword against the couch. The slave kindled the lamp which stood on the tortoise-sh.e.l.l table, brought the goblet and the roll of papyrus, and left the room.

Cethegus took up the roll.

But he soon laid it down again. His forced composure could not last; it was too unnatural. In the Roman Forum the Quirites drank with the barbarians to the health of the King of the Goths and the ruin of the Prefect of Rome, the Princeps Senatus! In two hours he was about to attempt to wrest the city from the Goths. He could not fill up the short pause with the perusal of a biography which he almost knew by heart.

He drank thirstily of the water in the goblet.

Then he threw himself upon his couch.

"Was it an omen?" he asked himself. "But there are no omens for those who do not believe in them. 'This is the only omen: to fight for the fatherland,' says Homer. Truly, I fight not alone for my native land; I fight still more for myself. But have not to-day's events disgracefully proved that Rome is Cethegus, and Cethegus is Rome? These name-forgetting Romans do not make Rome. The Rome of to-day is far more Cethegus than the Rome of old was Caesar. Was not he, too, a tyrant in the eyes of fools?"

He rose uneasily, and went up to the colossal statue of his great ancestor.

"G.o.d-like Julius! If I could pray, I would pray now to thee! Help me!

Complete the work of thy grandchild. How hard have I striven since the day when the idea of the renewal of thy empire was born within my brain--born full-armed, like Pallas Athene from the head of Jupiter!

How have I fought, mentally and physically, by day and by night! And though thrown to the ground seven times by the superior force of two peoples, seven times have I again struggled to my feet, unconquered and unintimidated! A year ago my goal seemed near--so near; and now, this very night, I must fight this fair youth for Rome and for my life! Can it be that I must succ.u.mb after such deeds and such exertions? Succ.u.mb to the good fortune of a youth! Is it, then, impossible for thy descendant to stand alone for his nation, until he renew both it and himself? Is it impossible to conquer the barbarians and the Greeks? Can not I, Cethegus, stop the wheel of Fate and roll it backward? Must I fail because I stand alone--a general without an army, a king without a nation to support him? Must I yield thy and my Rome? I cannot, will not think so! Did not thy star fade shortly before Pharsalus? and didst thou not swim over the Nile to save thy life, bleeding from a hundred wounds? And yet thou hast succeeded. Again thou hast entered Rome in triumph. It will not go more hardly with thy descendant. No; I will not lose my Rome! I will not lose my house, and this thy G.o.d-like image, which has often, like the crucifix of the Christian, filled me with hope and comfort. As a pledge of my success, to thee I will entrust a treasure. Where can anything on earth be safe if not with thee? In an hour of despondency, I was about to give this treasure to Syphax to bury in the earth. But if I lose Rome and this house, this sanctuary, I will lose all. Who can decipher these hieroglyphics? As thou hast kept the letters and the diary, so shalt thou keep this treasure also."

So saying, he drew from the bosom of his tunic, beneath his shirt of mail, a rather large leather bag, filled with costly pearls and precious stones, and touched a spring on the left side of the statue, below the edge of its shield.

A small opening was revealed, out of which he took an oblong casket of beautifully-carved ivory, provided with a golden lock. The casket contained all sorts of writings and rolls of papyrus. He now added the bag.

"Here, great ancestor, guard my secrets and my treasure. With whom should they be safe, if not with thee?"

He touched the spring again, and the statue looked as perfect as before.

"Beneath thy shield, upon thy heart! As a pledge that I trust in thee and my good fortune as thy descendant! As a pledge that nothing shall force me away from thee and Rome--at least for any length of time. If I _must_ go--I will return again. And who will seek my secret in the marble Caesar?"

If the water in the amethyst cup had been the strongest wine, it could not have had a more intoxicating effect than this soliloquy or dialogue with the colossal statue which Cethegus worshipped like a G.o.d.

The unnatural strain upon all his mental and physical powers during the last few weeks; the unsuccessful attempt to persuade the people on the Forum; the conception of a new and desperate plan as soon as he had been defeated in the first, and the consuming anxiety with which he awaited its execution, had excited and exhausted the iron nerves of the Prefect to the utmost.

He thought, spoke, and acted as if in a high fever.

Tired out, he threw himself upon his couch at the foot of the statue; and suddenly sleep overcame him.

But it was not the sound sleep which, until now, he had been able to command at will, even after some criminal act or before a dangerous enterprise: the result of a strong const.i.tution which was superior to all excitement.

For the first time his slumber was uneasy, disturbed by changeful dreams, which, like the fancies of a delirious man, chased each other through his brain.

At last the visions of the dreamer took a more concrete form.

He saw the statue at the feet of which he lay, grow and grow. The majestic head rose higher and higher, and pa.s.sed through the roof of the house. With its crown of laurel it at last penetrated the clouds, and towered into the starry heavens.

"Take me with thee!" sighed Cethegus.

But the demiG.o.d replied:

"I can scarcely see thee from this height. Thou art too small! Thou canst not follow me."

And it seemed to Cethegus that a thunderbolt fell and shattered the roof of his house. With a crash the beams fell upon him, burying him under the ruins. The statue of Caesar also broke and fell.

And crash after crash echoed through the place.

Cethegus woke, sprang up, and looked around in bewilderment.

CHAPTER XI.

The sound continued.

It was real--no dream! Blow after blow fell thundering against the door of his house.

Cethegus caught up his helm and sword.

At that moment Syphax and Lucius rushed into the room.

"Up, general!"

"Up, Cethegus!"

"Two hours cannot yet have pa.s.sed. Why have you awakened me?"

"The Goths! They have been beforehand with us! They storm the bulwarks!"

"d.a.m.n them! Where do they storm?"

Cethegus had already reached the door of the room.

"Where does the King attack?"

"At the bolts on the river. He has sent fire-ships up the stream.

Floats with heavy towers on deck, full of resin, pitch, and sulphur.

The first bolt of masts and all the boats between are in flames!

Salvius Julia.n.u.s is wounded and taken prisoner. There! you can see the reflection of the flames in the south-east!"

"The bolt of chains--does it hold?"