The noonday bustle was at its height in the baths of Titus. A constant stream of men, for the most part belonging to the rank of senators or the class of knights, flowed steadily through the wide Corinthian portico to the apodyterium,[47] where a host of slaves were busy in divesting the new-comers of their toga and tunic.

An equally dense crowd filled the elaothesium,[48] where the body was anointed with oil, and pressed through into the gymnasium,[49] where wrestling and discus-throwing were practised. One of the first laws of old Roman hygiene prescribed exercises of this kind before the bath. When the muscles had thus been thoroughly stretched, the bather wrapped himself in a light woollen garment and sat down to cool himself.This quarter of an hour of cooling on the benches round the wrestling-hall was one of the pleasantest of the day. Nowhere else was the chat so humorous or so gracious; nowhere else were the events of the day discussed with so much wit and acumen. Here, Martial launched his most daring epigrams. Here, Parthenius, the chamberlain, retailed the most flagrant intrigues and richest scandals. Here the last triumph in the circus was discussed, the proceedings of fair Lycoris, the achievement of some great gladiator, the peculations of a provincial governor, the will of a childless senator,[50] the suits pending before the centumvirate, the last recitations, banquets, deaths—but whatever the whims and humors of the loungers might bring uppermost, it was always cast in a form of easy grace, and discussed with a peculiar sparkle of light humor.

On the day in question there was the usual flow of free talk in the luxuriously-furnished hall, and the marble statues, which looked down from their purple niches, might have heard, if they could, many a cutting speech and many a peal of noisy laughter.

One of the most reckless talkers, in a group that had gathered round Martial, was Clodianus; his rubicund face beamed with Dionysiac excitement. The poet, wrapped over his ears in his sheet, had just delivered himself of an epigram, in his most pungent style, on an incident in the life of a certain attorney-at-law.[51] This man, Sabellus by name, a perfect model of incapacity, was never chosen to conduct a case by any but people of the lowest class, and from the beginning of his career had never once been successful. At last he had gained his first cause. The matter in dispute had been a cart-horse belonging to a wagoner. His client had offered the triumphant advocate a honorarium paid in kind, and the worthy Sabellus, in the excess of his joy, was talking of the brilliant success of his efforts in every public place in Rome. The poet described with malicious glee, how Sabellus had already told the story of the great horse case eight times, and at each repetition held his head a little higher. Martial concluded with these improvised lines:

The whole story, told with a mixture of infinite relish and irony, was irresistible; but not one of the party laughed so immoderately, so long, and so loud, as the starch adjutant. He could not get over it; laughter as of a cyclops filled his throat; it was as though the honest clumsiness of the soldier stood revealed in this naive and noisy amusement. His demeanor was so frank and blunt, that it might have satisfied Caesar himself.

Still, this loud joviality was somewhat belied by the glances which Clodianus cast from time to time, when he thought himself unobserved, at a corner of the hall, where a man with piercing eyes and a strong aquiline nose, was beguiling the quarter of an hour spent in cooling himself, by reading. When the loud shout of laughter echoed through the room like the rattle of thunder, the reader raised his reddened eyelids.

“What, Stephanus!” shouted Clodianus, holding his sides. “You are once more to be seen here? You have neglected us too much these last weeks. Martial grows more audacious every day. He is a splendid rascal, this Hispanian bully; by Incitatus! but he makes mince-meat of our Quirites. The story of Sabellus is delicious, a thing to revel in! And what are you studying here, in the intervals of discus-throwing?”

He had slowly gone up to the steward, while the group round the witty epigrammatist were already drawn into the current of another story.

“You are too kind,” replied Stephanus. “But an individual can never be missed, where good talk is kept up by so many distinguished men. I am worried and out of spirits, and quite out of place among the gay and cheerful.”

Clodianus expressed his regret in a long-drawn “Ah,” but his eye betrayed no sorrow. He seated himself on the couch by Stephanus.

“It is very true, the air of the city is saturated with anxiety. I have my own little share of it. You know the old saying: ‘A scorpion lurks under every stone.’” Stephanus smiled.

“You carry your politeness—or your irony—too far.—You, the most fortunate man in Rome.”

“I might very well say the same of you. Except the little annoyances that Cneius Afranius can cause you, your life is that of a god on Olympus.—To be sure,” he added in a lower voice, “that man’s tenacity is beginning to look threatening. All the more so since....”

“Well, finish your sentence.”

“Well, then, you know that until now I have found ways and means of parrying his attacks, but now....”

The freedman turned pale.

“But now...?”

“Now certain symptoms are revealing themselves—symptoms which make me suspect, that I shall not be able much longer to elude his thrusts.”

He had spoken these words hardly above his breath. They distilled slowly into the steward’s ear like poisonous adders, and seemed to writhe in his very soul.“Impossible!” he exclaimed in a choked voice. “You, the influential favorite of Caesar....”

“It is as I say. Why, I cannot myself altogether understand, but I am alive to the fact. The wind is blowing keenly through all the Basilicas, and if you do not keep a bright look-out you may be wrecked.”

“But, by Jupiter! why have I not heard this till to-day?”

“Because I fancied at first that I might be deceiving myself.... Splendid! First rate, Duilius! That is what I call throwing. Look, look now—Io triumphe. A winner at Olympia could not beat that!”

“I implore you,” whispered Stephanus, “tell me at once....”

“Keep calm,” replied Clodianus. “The Baths are not the place for such a discussion. Where do you dine?”

“With Lycoris.”

“Good, I will excuse myself to Furius, and go with you. After supper, in the park, we shall easily secure a few minutes.... Bravo, Septimius! bravo! What wonderful muscles! Praxiteles[55] ought to have had you for a model! By Castor, but you will break every bone in Sempronius’ body, sturdy as he is! Well, then,” he went on, turning to Stephanus again, “we shall meet at the fair Massilian’s table.”

He rose with a friendly nod, and passed through the great door in the inner wall into the frigidarium.[56] There he tossed his woollen wrapper over the head of a slave, and descended in all the dignity of stalwart corpulence into the vast bath. More than a hundred bathers were already sitting in it, up to their shoulders in the transparent water. Only a few swimmers were disporting themselves at the farther end.

Clodianus sat down too, thinking contentedly, and his gaze wandered round the noble hall. The light, which poured in from above through a circular opening, sparkled and twinkled so gaily on the dancing ripples—the splashing from the shells, through which the pipes were led which constantly renewed the water, sounded so soothing—the graceful forms of the nymphs in the fresco painting, and of the marble goddesses on their tall pedestals smiled so seductively, that any one might have supposed that the radiant expression on the adjutant’s features was nothing more than a reflection from these bright and rosy surroundings.

But Clodianus saw much more with the mind’s eye, than with the eye of the senses. Elaborate schemes were disentangling themselves in his restless, brooding brain; incredible events rose before his fancy in vivid colors.

And Clodianus looked better pleased than ever, when the tall figure of Stephanus appeared on the threshold. Sternly as the wily steward strove to conceal his feelings, Clodianus saw at a glance what an effect his revelation had had upon him, and he laughed, like a hunter who has had good sport in the field.

“You are as radiant as the sun-god!” said a little man, who went down the steps at this instant. “It is horribly cold this morning—pure snow-water.”His teeth chattered, and he shrugged his shoulders up to his ears.

“Ah! Sextus Furius!” cried Clodianus, a little startled. “I am glad to meet you. I wanted to let you know, as soon as I quitted the bath, that I am prevented dining with you to-day. Important business....”

“That is a pity,” replied the noble Senator, who, here, in the frigidarium, was not by any means an Apollo. “I had a great many things to talk to you about.”

“Business?”

“Concerning the chamberlain. You know we are in treaty over an estate at Baiae?”

“To be sure.—A most delightful residence. Made on purpose for the raptures of the honeymoon.” And he winked significantly. But the little Senator pursed up his mouth and knit his brows in displeasure, and flourished his elbows so vehemently that the water splashed up all round him.

“Furius, you are becoming a perfect Fury!” cried Clodianus. Then he laughed at his own precious wit and stirred his side of the bath into circling wavelets.

“You seem monstrously happy!” remarked Furius biting his lips.

“Monstrously! And if I only had a sweetheart as handsome and as hugely rich as your divine Claudia....”

“Pooh, nonsense, I have not got so far as that yet. Titus Claudius, at the eleventh hour, begged for time for reflection.”

“You are in treaty for the estate all the same?”

“Certainly—what do you think now? If the affair with Claudius falls through, I shall carry my suit next day to Fannia, who is younger, or to Paula or to old Camilla. My honor is at stake. I have already made every preparation; dramatic and pantomimic performances, sham fights and races. I cannot possibly withdraw; I am compromised on every side.”

And again he shivered and his teeth chattered. An instant later he sprang with one leap out of the bath.

“Good-bye,” he said, “I am fast turning to ice. With regard to the estate.—Well, we can talk of that another time.” He ran as fast as he could across the flags and flung himself into the warm water of the caldarium in the farther pillared hall. After warming his chilled limbs there for a short time, he submitted himself to the operations of the tractators[57] or shampooers with brushes and strigils, and then, as red as a boiled lobster, betook himself to the dressing-rooms. He presently made his way home, anointed with Egyptian and Phoenician perfumes, and among the cushions of his luxurious dining-couch did his best to forget the chill of the frigidarium and the coldness of his coy Claudia.

Clodianus finished the processes of the bath with an air of profound satisfaction, that was observed by all the bathers and accepted as undoubted evidence of his security in his office. No doubt the impression that he left behind him, here and elsewhere, must have some effect on Domitian. Caesar’s capricious and vacillating nature was often more easily guided by such trifles, than by well-considered and deliberate action.

From the baths Clodianus went on foot to the residence of Lycoris, talking as he went with the greatest affability to the clients and slaves who accompanied him. Nay, with one of his clients he exchanged blows in sham fight, regardless of the numerous gazers who respectfully made way for him, but who were greatly amazed at this rough jesting.

At the house of the Massilian he met a mixed company. Stephanus had already arrived, and he preserved his usual calm and easy indifference, when the adjutant came in. But he gradually made plans and preparations to involve Clodianus in a tÊte-À-tÊte conversation, while Clodianus showed great cleverness in ignoring and evading these attempts. They went to table and were entertained by flute-players and singers. The Lucrine oysters were relished with intolerable deliberateness; the succession of dishes was positively interminable—so, at least, it seemed to the freedman, who was quite exasperated by the soldier’s huge appetite.

At last, at last, they rose, and, after a quarter, another quarter of an hour’s manoeuvring, Stephanus gained his point. He was slowly pacing by the gourmand’s side through the splendid avenues, where the light west wind now and again lifted a brown leaf from the bough and wafted it to its rest on the ground.

“You see I am in the greatest agitation,” began Stephanus, as his companion seemed inclined to continue a conversation begun at the supper-table. Clodianus suddenly turned quite solemn.

“To be frank with you,” he said, “you have good reason. Why should I try to conceal it? The situation is most critical Be on your guard, Stephanus; I fear you may need all your keenest wits.—Hark! some one is behind us; even here we are surrounded by listeners. Only one thing I must say. Afranius is attracting Caesar’s liking....”

“That would be my ruin,” gasped the freedman in dismay.

“Not yet—you must not lose all hope. It is true that, if I am not deceived, Caesar will not only allow, but will command Afranius to make the strictest enquiries.—However, you have a crafty brain. I only wanted to let you know the state of affairs; in the first place to warn you, and secondly to show you the reason why my interference is now at an end. Afranius indeed I might outwit, but....” He shrugged his shoulders, and his face expressed the deepest concern. Stephanus gnawed his lips.

“Then Afranius must be got out of the way,” he said, frowning. “I have long thought I was too easy....”

“That would do no good. On the contrary; the sudden disappearance of Afranius would excite comment and remark, and every one would know at once to whom to attribute it. I tell you once more, it is not Afranius, it is Caesar himself.—Silence! to-morrow come and see me in my villa in the Via Praenestina—after sundown.—Nay, hold up your head, Stephanus. If it comes to the worst you can take ship and sail for Africa.”

“I? Leave Rome! I would die first. Rome is the only place where one can breathe. I should die in a province.”

“Well, we can discuss that later. See, Lycoris and the noble Norbanus have found us out—a well-matched pair! The conqueror of Dacian armies, and the conqueror of Latin hearts. Come, fair mistress, and decide the question; we are disputing as to whether the plane or the elm turns yellow first. Speak the decisive word.”

Lycoris laughed.

“If you put me to torture, I do not know. They both turn yellow too soon to please me.” She drew her cloak more closely round her, for the evening was chilly. They turned and went down the avenue together; Lycoris and the two soldiers in eager chat, Stephanus in the silence of despair.

When, after a short walk, they reËntered the house, Clodianus laid his hand on the steward’s arm and looked meaningly into his eyes. “Hold up your head,” he said with determined emphasis. “You may conquer yet, if you are a man.”

The words seemed to work a miracle. Stephanus inferred from them, that Clodianus had not told him everything. This idea, and yet more the peculiar expression of the adjutant’s manner, restored his confidence.

“To-morrow,” he whispered, as he shook hands with the astute officer. Then the party gave themselves up to enjoyment—a gay party!

It was near midnight, when Stephanus set out homewards. He could now hardly realize how he had so utterly lost heart at a single blow. Had he not sailed with triumphant success round many a rocky shore? Had he not ridden with safety through every storm? The storm that now roared round him was, to be sure, a hurricane. But Clodianus, that stalwart pilot, was standing at the helm.—In short—the much-dreaded Caesar was but a man like other men.—It was folly to run his head against the troubles of the future! “To-day is mine, and I will enjoy the present.”In his bedroom he found his favorite, Antinous. The slave flew to meet him with eager eyes, and as soon as the others had withdrawn, Stephanus sat down on his couch, and called the lad to him.

“Well?” he said in a low voice.

“The game is ours,” said the slave. “But it has cost much trouble and pains....”

“Ours? Do not sell the lion’s skin, before he is in the net.”

“But he is in the net. I have found out everything, and what I know, my lord, will be the death of him as surely....”

“Do not go too fast; the Claudians are powerful. Nothing but the most terrific stroke will fell him.”

“But hear me, and then judge. Quintus Claudius has joined the Nazarenes.”

“Impossible! A millionaire has thrown in his lot with the beggars! It is a lie, boy.” Antinous laughed.

“It sounds like a fable, does not it? But it is the truth all the same. I pledge my head on it: before the week is out Quintus Claudius is taken and sentenced.”

“Boy, you are a jewel!” cried Stephanus beside himself. “If all this proves true, by the gods, I will have you set in gold.”

“My plan is most simple. To-morrow morning early....”

“That will do,” interrupted Stephanus, who was quite incapacitated by delight, from attending to details. “I trust it all to you, and give you full powers to do whatever you think necessary. As I live, that would be a victory—a triumph such as never was heard of! Come here, lad, that I may kiss you.” He hugged the boy as if he had lost his reason.“Now go, be off—I must rest.”

“Sleep well!” said Antinous. “You may rest on laurels.” And he ran off.

“Capital, glorious!” murmured his master. “Now—now, fair Domitia....”

In the excitement of his feelings he hid his head in the pillows; a slight shudder shook his meagre frame. He clenched his fists, and closed his lips tightly.—Thus he fell asleep; and his deep and difficult breathing sounded loud in the still, dimly-lighted room.