THE ROBE (66 page)

That the young daughter of Gallus had been innocently but unmistakably
responsible for this dangerous imprudence--and many another hazardous folly on
the part of the ageing Emperor--was now the unanimous opinion of the household
staff.

The beauteous Diana was becoming a problem. For the first few weeks
after her arrival, more than a year ago, the entire population of Capri--with
the exception of the Empress Julia, whose Jealousy of her was deep and
desperate--had rejoiced in the girl's invigorating influence on Tiberius. His
infatuation for Diana had done wonders for him. Boyishly eager to please her,
he was living more temperately, not only in what he ate and drank, but in what
he said and did. Not often now was the Emperor noticeably intoxicated. His
notorious tantrums were staged less frequently and with less violence. When
annoyed, he still threw things at his ministers, but it had been a long time
since he had barked at or bitten anyone. And whereas he had frequently
humiliated them all by slogging about the grounds looking like the veriest ragamuffin,
now he insisted on being shaved almost every morning and was keenly interested
in his costumes.

This had met the enthusiastic approval of everybody whose tenure of
office was in any way related to his own--and that included almost everyone on
Capri, ministers, minstrels, physicians, dancers, gardeners, vintners, tailors,
astrologers, historians, poets, cooks, guards, carpenters, stonemasons,
sculptors, priests, and at least three hundred servants, bond and free. The
longer they could keep the Emperor alive, the better for their own careers; and
the more contented he was, the less arduous their task of caring for him.

It was quite natural, therefore, that Diana should be popular. The poets
in residence composed extravagant odes appropriately extolling her beauty,
and--with somewhat less warrant--her sweet and gentle disposition, for she was
of uncertain temper and not at all reticent about expressing her feelings when
displeased.

But, as time went on, it began to be whispered about that the infirm Emperor,
in trying to show off for Diana, was wearing himself out. He was at her nimble
heels from sunrise to sunset, in all weathers, fiercely gouging the gravelled
paths with his cane as they toured the island, and wheezing up and down stairs
in her lavish new villa, which seemed almost as far from completion as it had
been six months previously, though a hundred skilled workmen had been hard at
it every day. Nothing was ever quite fine enough. Mantels had to be taken down
and rebuilt, again and again. Mosaic floors and walls were ripped out and
reconstructed. One day the old man had testily remarked that he didn't believe
the villa would ever be completed, an impromptu forecast which, albeit spoken
lightly, turned out to be a sound prediction.

For some time considerable sympathy was felt for Diana. Though no one
knew certainly--for she was far too wise to confide fully in anyone connected
with this university of gossip, intrigue, and treachery--it was generally
believed that the brilliant and beautiful girl was being detained at Capri
against her personal wishes. This seemed to be confirmed by the fact that on
the occasions of her mother's visits, every few weeks, Diana would weep
piteously when the time came for Paula's departure. There might be certain advantages
in being the sole object of the Emperor's devotion; but, considered as a
permanent occupation, it left a good deal to be desired.

A legend had gradually taken form and size concerning Diana's prospects.
The Chamberlain, in his cups, had confided to the Captain of the Guard that the
comely daughter of Legate Gallus was in love with the son of Senator Gallio, a
probably hopeless attachment, seeing that the young Tribune was sick in the
head and had been spirited out of the country. This information was soon common
knowledge.

No one was more interested in Diana's aspirations than old Julia, who
contrived to inspect every letter she sent and received. And it was believed
that Julia relayed copies of all such correspondence to Gaius; for, on each
occasion of having spied upon Diana's letters, she had dispatched a scroll to
the Prince by special messenger.

During the winter, Gaius had not visited Capri, but, advised of the
Emperor's indisposition, he had come in latter April, attended by a foppish
retinue, and had spent a week, pretending to be much concerned over the old
man's ill-health, but fully enjoying the nightly banquets which Tiberius had
ordered.

On these occasions the Emperor--barely able to hold his weary head
up--drowsed and roused and grinned like a skull and drowsed again, a ludicrous
caricature of imperial power. On his right, but paying no attention to him,
reclined old Julia, wigged, painted, ablaze with jewels and shockingly
cadaverous, smirking and fawning over Gaius who lounged beside her.

None of the fifty dissolute sycophants who sprawled about the overloaded
tables dared risk exchanging a wink or a smile; but it was an amusing
pantomime, with the Emperor half-asleep and the Empress disgustingly pawing at
the gold-embroidered sleeve of the Prince, while he, disdainfully indifferent
to her caresses, leaned far forward to make amorous grimaces at Diana, on the
other side of Tiberius, stripping her with his experienced, froglike eyes,
while she regarded him with the cool detachment of one reading an epitaph on an
ancient monument.

This had been privately enjoyed by almost everybody but Celia, the
beautiful but feather-headed wife of Quintus and niece of Sejanus, long-time
friend and adviser of Tiberius. Celia was beside herself with an anxiety she
could not disguise. She would have been ready to kill Diana had the girl shown
Gaius the slightest encouragement, but she was also much annoyed over Diana's
frosty disinterest in the Prince's attentions. Who, indeed, did this young
Gallus think she was--to be so haughty? She had better mend her manners!

The crazy old man she was leading about--like a dog on a leash--would be
dying one of these fine days--and then where would she be?

It had been a depressing week for Celia. Ever since Quintus had been
sent abroad on some state mission of high importance, she had been the centre
of interest at the Prince's social functions, serving as hostess and enjoying
his candid and clumsy preferment. At first it had been believed that Gaius was
showing her special favours to ingratiate himself with old Sejanus, who held a
strong hand on the imperial purse-strings. But as time went on, and the
Prince's visits at Celia's villa were of daily occurrence, this flattery had
gone to her head and she had made the mistake of snubbing many friends who,
though they had endured her snobberies for diplomacy's sake, were carefully
preparing to avenge themselves when an opportune moment arrived. It had been
Celia's hope that the Prince would find further business for her husband in
foreign parts, but now it had been announced that Quintus was returning
presently. As if that were not dismaying enough, Gaius was giving his full
attention to Diana.

On the last day of this visit to the Emperor, Celia had arranged what
she thought was a private moment with the Prince (though there were few
conversations on Capri which the whole island didn't know by nightfall) and
tearfully took him to task for his recent indifference.

'I thought you liked me,' she whimpered.

'Not when your nose is red,' he grumbled. 'You'd better stop making
yourself ridiculous.'

'Can't you send Quintus away again?' she wheedled.

'That braying ass?' retorted Gaius. 'We trust him with an ambassadorial
errand, and he gets himself slapped all over the campus of a Greek inn by an
unarmed slave!'

'I don't believe it!' shrilled Celia. 'It's a story someone invented to
discredit him! I thought you were Quintus's friend.'

'Bah! Quintus's only friend is his mirror! Had I cared for your husband,
would I have made a cuckold of him?'

Celia had wept hysterically.

'You liked me well enough,' she cried, 'until you came here and noticed
the charms of this Gallus girl! And it's plain to see she despises you! What an
impudent creature she is!'

'Mind you don't plan to do her some injury!' growled Gaius, clutching
her arm roughly. 'You would better forget all about her now, and be contented
with your husband when he comes.' He chuckled infuriatingly. 'You and Quintus
are admirably suited to each other.'

'You can't treat me like that!' she shouted, reckless with rage. 'Where
will you stand with Sejanus when I tell him you have treated me like an
ordinary trollop?'

Gaius shrugged.

'Where will
you
stand--when you tell him that?' he sneered.

Whereupon Celia had sought comfort in a call on the Empress, suddenly
remembering a social duty which most of the rest forgot in the confusion of
departure.

Julia had been surprisingly effusive; and Celia, red-eyed and outraged,
was a ready victim to the Empress's sympathetic queries.

'Poor Gaius!' sighed old Julia. 'So impressionable! So lonesome! And so
beset with cares! You must make allowances for him, my dear. And he really is
in love, I think, with the daughter of Gallus. It would not be a bad alliance.
Gallus is a great favourite with the army, at home and abroad. Indeed--Gallus
is
the army! And if my son is to succeed to the throne, he needs the good will of
our legions. Furthermore, as you have seen for yourself, the Emperor is so
foolishly fond of Diana that her marriage with Gaius would practically insure
my son's future.'

'But Diana hates him!' cried Celia. 'Anyone can see that!'

'Well, that is because she thinks she is in love with the half-crazy son
of Gallio.' Julia's thin lips puckered in an omniscient smile. 'She will get
over that. Perhaps, if you would like to square accounts with the luscious
Diana, you might give yourself no bother to deny the reports that Marcellus is
insane.' And with that, the Empress had kissed Celia and waved her out.

Wiping her lips vigorously, Celia returned to the Villa Jovis where the
party was assembling for conveyance down the mountain to the imperial barge.
She was still hopeful that Gaius, on the return trip, would repent of his
discourtesies and restore her to his favour.

'Where is the Prince?' she inquired, with forced brightness, of her
cousin Lavilla Sejanus, as the slave-borne chairs were being filled.

'He isn't going back to the city with us,' Lavilla had had malicious
pleasure in replying. 'I daresay he wants to have a quiet visit with Diana.'

'Well, he can have her!' retorted Celia, hotly.

'Don't be too sure of that!' shrilled Minia, Lavilla's younger sister,
who was thought to have been wholly occupied with the conversation she was
having with Olivia Varus, in the chair beside her.

'Diana is waiting for Marcellus Gallio to come back,' put in Olivia.

'Much good that will do her,' sniffed Celia. 'Marcellus has lost his
mind. That's why they sent him away.'

'Nonsense!' scoffed Lavilla. 'The Emperor sent him away to make some
sort of investigation--in Athens, or somewhere. Think he would have sent a
crazy man?'

'Why not?' giggled Minia.

'Who told you that, Celia?' demanded Olivia.

'The Empress!' declared Celia, impressively. 'I don't think it's a
secret.'

'Neither do I,' drawled Lavilla. 'It may have been--but it isn't now.'

'Why should you care?' inquired Minia, languidly.

'Well, I rather like Marcellus,' said Lavilla, 'and Diana, too. It's
unfortunate to have such a story spread about. Besides, I don't believe it!'

'But the Empress told me!' snapped Celia, indignantly.

Lavilla arched her brows, pursed her lips and shrugged.

'I wonder why,' she said.

It was mid-afternoon when the
Cleo
sighted the island and another
hour had passed before she tied up at the wharf. It had been a perfect day.
Marcellus had never seen the Bay of Neapolis so blue. Demetrius was left at the
docks to oversee the conveyance of their luggage to the Villa Jovis.

Engaging a waiting chair, Marcellus was borne up the long flight of
marble steps, and the sinuous path, and more steps, and another path,
luxuriating in the ruinously expensive beauty with which the Emperor had
surrounded himself. The old man might be crazy, but he was an artist.

Now that they had come up to the plateau, Tiberius's wonder city,
dominated by the massive Jovis, gleamed white in the June sunshine. Lean old
philosophers and fat old priests lounged in the arbours, and on the gravelled
paths that bounded the pools other wise men strolled with their heads bent and
their hands clasped behind them. Were all of the Emperor's counsellors old men?
Naturally they would be. It aged Marcellus to face the prospect of joining
forces with these doddering ancients.

It surprised and gratified him that he had so little explaining to do in
accounting for his presence. He spoke his name to the patrol and they passed
him without examination. He told the porter who he was and the porter sent
another with a message to the Captain of the Guard, who came without delay and
led him through the vasty peristyle into the cool, high-ceilinged atrium where,
presently, the Chamberlain entered to greet him with much deference.

The Emperor, who was resting, would be made aware of Tribune Marcellus's
arrival. Meantime, would the Tribune be pleased to go to the apartment which
had been prepared for him?

'I was expected, then?' asked Marcellus.

'Oh, yes, sir,' replied Nevius. 'His Majesty had learned of Tribune
Marcellus's arrival in Rome.'

It was a sumptuous suite that they showed him, with a small, exquisitely
appointed peristyle of its own, looking out upon a colourful garden. Half a
dozen Nubians were preparing his bath. A tall Macedonian slave came with a
flagon of wine, followed by another bearing a silver salver filled with choice
fruits.