  When the craft was brought up at the landing-place on the mainland, Plautus, followed by five of his crew, sprang ashore and with all haste made toward the posting-house. The superintendent was in a long stable, overlooking the business of feeding and making snug for the night the animals under his charge. ‘Horses!’ demanded Plautus laconically, as he strode inside, followed by his gang. ‘Humph—on whose business?’ said the superintendent suspiciously. ‘Caesar’s!’ ‘Humph! I must have more than your word for that.’ Plautus, without speaking, thrust his fist close up under the official’s nose, and displayed a signet ring gleaming on one of his bony fingers. The man of horses bobbed back his head with an angry gesture, which made the new-comers laugh, and turning to the grooms, said snappishly, ‘Give him Livilla.’ Plautus again thrust his ring under his visage. ‘I said horses,’ he growled roughly; ‘here are six of us. Nor will the nag Livilla do for me—pick out your own, lads, and no more palaver.’ This was soon done, amid much noisy mirth and rude jesting, and in a few minutes they were all speeding along the road to Surrentum, making the most of the last minutes of departing daylight. Arriving at the town, they proceeded at a walk, in straggling order, to attract less attention. The streets were now dark, however, and the passers-by few in number; neverthe[pg 335] Within a hundred yards of the dwelling of the ill-fated Masthlion, the band dismounted; the sweating horses were fastened in a gloomy corner, and a man left in charge of them. Plautus, with the remainder, proceeded to the house. The outer door was closed and all was dark and silent. Plautus, ordering his companions to remain without until he called them, knocked loudly. A light step came running within. ‘Father, is it you?’ called the glad tones of NeÆra’s voice. A bolt was drawn, the door opened, and the girl herself stood in the entrance, holding a light above her head, whilst she peered beneath, with eager expectation written on her face. ‘No, my pretty wench, it is not your father, that’s very sure,’ quoth Plautus, as he came forward out of the darkness into the feeble light thrown by the lamp. NeÆra, with a cry of alarm, started back at the sight of the shrouded figure and the harsh features of the speaker. ‘Stop,’ he said, making good his entrance inside the shop; ‘don’t be afraid nor run away. If I’m not your father, I’ve come from your father—that is, if you are the daughter of Masthlion the potter.’ ‘I am,’ said the disappointed girl, whose anxiety to learn of the absent one struggled against feminine suspicion and timidity of the ill-favoured visitor. ‘What have you to tell me of him? Why does he not come home? When is he coming?’ ‘For a particular reason he has not come home; nor is he coming yet. That is why he has sent me to bring you to him. To speak truth, he is taken very ill, and you are bidden to go back with me, straightway, to tend him.’ ‘That shall be my business,’ said a voice behind; ‘ill, did you say—my husband ill?’ ‘Eh!’ ejaculated Plautus, scanning the wrinkled anxious face of Tibia as she came forward; ‘are you his wife?’ ‘Yes,’ cried NeÆra for her, in great agitation; ‘tell us, good sir, if he is very ill—speak quickly and tell us all.’ [pg 336]‘How many more are there of you?’ ‘None—save a kinsman who dwells with us for a space—oh, tell us of my father.’ ‘And where is the kinsman—is he in the house?’ ‘No—no! Somewhere in the town. You are cruel in tormenting us—speak then, and say what we are to do?’ ‘I have already told you. He has sent for you—he is ill, dying—so haste and come along, if you would see him alive.’ A smothered cry broke from Tibia’s lips, and NeÆra turned pale. ‘Dying?’ murmured the girl, tottering back against the wall. ‘It was me he should have sent for—his wife,’ said Tibia, confronting the wily ruffian; ‘you have made a mistake surely. At any rate she shall not go.’ ‘She must, and quickly.’ ‘It would be impossible for a girl, as she is, to go with you now; it is my place and duty to go to my husband—she must remain.’ ‘Ah, mother, can we not both go? Where is he, and how are we to travel?’ said NeÆra, pale but self-possessed. Plautus scowled and gnawed his lip for a moment. Then he said, ‘Well, well! I admit the wife has a claim before the daughter. Go you, therefore, and get your cloak—let the girl remain by the house. All blame must be on your head.’ Tibia instantly departed into the upper rooms with the assurance that she would not be long. ‘You have not yet told us where my father is,’ said NeÆra, when they were alone; ‘you are unkind, as a messenger, to those who hold him dearest. Did he send no words beyond bidding me to go—no token? Speak, for the love of the gods!’ ‘I don’t recollect, but I’ll bring in my comrade and see if he has a better memory,’ replied Plautus. He whistled and his accomplices filed in. NeÆra, in great alarm, turned to dart away down the passage into the house, but Plautus dexterously placed himself in the way. At the same moment a cloak was twisted round her head, which stifled the cry on her lips. To pinion her limbs was the work of an instant, for the worthy slaves were prepared for every [pg 337] The unhappy Tibia was surprised in her room, where she was hastily collecting a few articles for her supposed journey. ‘What do you want?’ she cried, as the ruthless slaves crowded into the narrow room. They advanced toward her, and she screamed in affright at their menacing aspect. One of them rolled his eyes to his leader and half drew a knife from his belt. But no orders had been given for any further use of the weapon, and Plautus, from experience, kept to the letter of his instructions. ‘Silence, hag!’ he roared, ‘and keep your traps—you can stay and keep house since your girl has now gone. As for your husband, he doesn’t want you, for he is at the bottom of the sea, and his glass pot with him—we put him there as we came along to-night.’ As if his pitiless brutality were a matter of humour, the wretch accompanied it with a grin. The poor woman gave an agonised cry, and sank down beneath his terrible words, as though pierced with the kinder thrust of a sword. ‘You have killed her,’ said one of his comrades. ‘Not I,’ returned Plautus; ‘she’ll make a sturdy widow yet—it was well behaved to go off in that fashion and save us trouble.’ The insensible dame’s mouth was gagged, her poor, frail limbs tied, and then the room ransacked. There was nothing, however, which seemed worthy of any particular notice, and they proceeded to devote a similar attention to the remainder of the house. Every glass article was smashed, to prove it did not possess the interdicted malleable quality, and, in the search for whatever might have some bearing on the same luckless invention, the whole of the poor appointments of the dwelling were tossed hither and thither. This process was very rapid and thorough, and occupied only a few minutes. The workshop outside was then entered, and a work of devastation entered upon. The furnace was pulled down bodily. Every article which could be destroyed was utterly [pg 338] In another minute the marauders had regained their horses. The whole campaign had been executed with a rapidity, silence, and completeness which left nothing to be desired, and reflected the highest credit on the discipline of the Imperial household. |
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