Caesar Dies by Talbot Mundy (best novels to read to improve english TXT) 📖

"I would let you have your own way and be executed! You deserve it, Pertinax." Pertinax stood up and paced the floor with hands behind him.

"I will have my own way. I will have it, Marcia!" he said, calmly, coming to a stand in front of her. "He who plots against his emperor may meet the like fate! If Commodus has no designs against me, then I harbor none against him. I am not sure I am fitted to be Caesar. I have none to rally to me, to rely on, except the praetorian guard, which is a two-horned weapon; they could turn on me as easily and put a man of their own choosing on the throne. And furthermore, I don't wish to be Caesar. Glabrio, for instance, is a better man than I am for the task. I will only consent to your desperate course, for the sake of Rome, if you can prove to me that Commodus designs a wholesale massacre. And even so, if your name and Galen's and mine are not on his proscription list—if he only intends, that is, to punish Christians and weaken the faction of that Carthaginian Severus, I will observe my oath of loyalty. I will counsel moderation but—"

"You are less than half a man without your mistress!" Marcia exploded. "Don't stand trying to impress me with your dignity. I don't believe in it! I will send for Cornificia."

"No, no!" Pertinax showed instant resolution. "Cornificia shall not be dragged in. The responsibility is yours and mine. Let us not lessen our dignity by involving an innocent woman."

For a moment that made Marcia breathless. She was staggered by his innocence, not his assertion of Cornificia's—bemused by the man's ability to believe what he chose to believe, as if Cornificia had not been the very first who plotted to make him Caesar. Cornificia more than any one had contrived to suggest to the praetorian guard that their interest might best be served some day by befriending Pertinax; she more than any one had disarmed Commodus' suspicion by complaining to him about Pertinax' lack of self-assertiveness, which had become Commodus' chief reason for not mistrusting him. By pretending to report to Commodus the private doings of Pertinax and a number of other important people, Cornificia had undermined Commodus' faith in his secret informers who might else have been dangerous.

"Your Cornificia," Marcia began then changed her mind. Disillusionment would do no good. She must play on the man's illusion that he was the master of his own will. "Very well," she went on, "Yours be the decision! No woman can decide such issues. We are all in your hands— Cornificia and Galen—all of us—aye, and Rome, too—and even Sextus and his friends. But you will never have another such opportunity. It is tonight or never, Pertinax!"

He winced. He was about to speak, but something interrupted him. The great door carved with cupids leading to the emperor's bedchamber opened inch by inch and Telamonion came out, closing it softly behind him.

"Caesar sleeps," said the child, "and the wind blew out the lamp. He was very cross. It is dark. It is cold and lonely in there."

In his hand he held a sheet of parchment, covered with writing and creased from his attempts to make a parchment helmet, "Show me," he said, holding out the sheet to Marcia.

She took him on her knee and began reading what was written, putting him down when he tugged at the parchment to make her show him how to fold it. She found him another sheet to play with and told him to take it to Pertinax who was a soldier and knew more about helmets. Then she went on reading, clutching at the sheet so tightly that her nails blanched white under the dye.

"Pertinax!" she said, shaking the parchment, speaking in a strained voice, "this is his final list! He has copied the names from his tablets. Whose name do you guess comes first?"

Pertinax was playing with Telamonion and did not look at her.

"Severus!" he answered, morbid jealousy, amounting to obsession, stirring that cynical hope in him.

"Severus isn't mentioned. The first six names are in this order: Galen, Marcia, Cornificia, Pertinax, Narcissus, Sextus alias Maternus. Do you realize what that means? It is now or never! Why has he put Galen first, I wonder?"

Galen did not appear startled. His interest was philosophical— impersonal.

"I should be first. I am guiltiest. I taught him in his youth," he remarked, smiling thinly. "I taught him how to loose the beast that lives in him, not intending that, of course, but it is what we do that counts. I should come first! The state would have been better for the death of many a man whom I cured; but I did not cure Commodus, I revealed him to himself, and he fell in love with himself and—"

"Now will you poison him?" said Marcia.

"No," said Galen. "Let him kill me. It is better."

"Gods! Has Rome no iron left? You, Pertinax!" said Marcia, "Go in and kill him!"

Pertinax stood up and stared at her. The child Telamonion pressed close to him holding his righthand, gazing at Marcia.

"Telamonion, go in and play with Narcissus," said Marcia. She pointed at the curtains and the child obeyed.

"Go in and kill him, Pertinax!" Marcia shook the list of names, then stood still suddenly, like a woman frozen, ash-white under the carmine on her cheeks.

There came a voice from the emperor's bedroom, more like the roar of an angry beast than human speech:

"Marcia! Do you hear me, Marcia? By all Olympus—Marcia!"

She opened the door. The inner room was in darkness. There came a gust of chill wet wind that made all the curtains flutter and there was a comfortless noise of cataracts of rain downpouring from the over-loaded gutters on to marble balconies. Then the emperor's voice again:

"Is that you, Marcia? You leave your Commodus to die of thirst! I parch—I have a fever—bring my wine-cup!"

"At once, Commodus."

She glanced at the golden cup on an onyx table. On a stand beside it was an unpierced wine jar set in an enormous bowl of snow. She looked at Pertinax—and shrugged her shoulders, possibly because the wind blew through the opened door. She glanced at Galen.

"If you have a fever, shouldn't I bring Galen?"

"No!" roared Commodus. "The man might poison me! Bring me the cup, and you fill it yourself! Make haste before I die of thirst! Then bring me another lamp and dose the shutters! No slaves—I can't bear the sight of them!"

"Instantly, Commodus. I am coming with it now. Only wait while I pierce the amphora."

She closed the door and looked swiftly once again at Pertinax. He frowned over the list of names and did not look at her. She walked straight up to Galen.

"Give me!" she demanded, holding out her hand. He drew a little parchment package from his bosom and she clutched it, saying nothing. Galen was the one who spoke:

"Responsibility is his who orders. May the gods see that it falls where it belongs."

She took no notice of his speech but stood for a moment untying the strings of the package, frowning to herself, then bit the string through and, clutching the little package in her fist, took a gilded tool from beside the snow-bowl and pierced the seal of the amphora. Then she put the poison in the bottom of the golden cup and poured the wine—with difficulty, since the jar was heavy, but Pertinax, who watched intently, made no movement to assist. She stirred the wine with one of her long hair-pins.

"Marcia!" roared Commodus.

"I am coming now."

She went into the bedroom, leaving the door not quite closed behind her.
Pertinax began to stare at Galen critically. Galen blinked at him.
Commodus' voice came very distinctly from the inner room:

"Taste first, Marcia! Olympus! I can't see you in the dark. Come close. Are your lips wet? Let me feel them!"

"I drank a whole mouthful, Commodus. How hot your hand is! Feel—feel the cup—you can feel with your finger how much I have tasted. I broke the seal of a fresh jar of Falernian."

"Some of your Christians might have tampered with it!"

"No, no, Commodus. That jar has been in the cellar since before you were born and the seal was intact. I washed the cup myself."

"Well, taste again. Sit here on the bed where I can feel your heart- beats."

Presently he gave a gasp and belched, as always after he had swallowed a whole cupful at one draught.

"Now close the shutters and bolt them on the inside; there might be some of your Christians lurking on the balcony."

"In this storm, Commodus? And there are guards on duty."

"Close them, I say! Who trusts the guards! Did they guard the tunnel? I will rid Rome of all Christians tomorrow! Aye, and of many another reptile! They have robbed me of my fun in the arena—I will find another way to interest myself! Now bring me a fresh lamp in here, and set the tablets by the bed."

She came out, shutting the door behind her, then stood listening. She did not tremble. Her wrist was red where Commodus had held it.

"How long?" she whispered, looking at Galen.

"Only a very little time," he answered. "How much did you drink?"

She put her hand to her stomach, as if pain had stabbed her.

"Drink pure wine," said Galen. "Swiftly. Drink a lot of it."

She went to the amphora. Before she could reach it there came a roar like a furious beast's from the bedroom.

"I am poisoned! Marcia! Marcia! My belly burns! I am on fire inside! I faint! Marcia!—Marcia!" Then groans and a great creaking of the bed.

Marcia—she was trembling now—drank wine, and Pertinax began to pace the floor.

"You, Galen, you had better go in to him," said Marcia.

"If I do go, I must heal him," Galen answered.

The groans in the bedroom ceased. The shouts began again—terrific imprecations—curses hurled at Marcia—the struggles of a strong man in the throes of cramp—and, at last, the sound of vomiting.

"If he vomits he will not die!" Marcia exclaimed. Galen nodded. He appeared immensely satisfied—expectant.

"Galen, have you—will that poison kill him?" Marcia demanded.

"No," said Galen. "Pertinax must kill him. I promised I would do my best for Pertinax. Behold your opportunity!"

Pertinax strode toward him, clutching at a dagger underneath his tunic.

"Kill me if you wish," said Galen, "but if you have any resolution you had better do first what you wanted me to do. And you will need me afterward."

Commodus was vomiting and in the pauses roaring like a mad beast. Marcia seized Pertinax by the arm. "I have done my part," she said. "Now nerve yourself! Go in now and finish it!"

"He may die yet. Let us wait and see," said Pertinax.

A howl rising to a scream—terror and anger mingled—came from the bedroom; then again the noise of vomiting and the creaking of the bed as Commodus writhed in the spasms of cramp.

"He will feel better presently," said Galen.

"If so, you die first! You have betrayed us all!" Pertinax shook off Marcia and scowled at Galen, raising his right arm as if about to strike the old man. "False to your emperor! False to us!"

"And quite willing to die, if first I may see you play the man!" said
Galen, blinking up at him.

"Hush!" exclaimed Marcia. "Listen! Gods! He is up off the bed! He will be in here in a minute! Pertinax!"

Alarm subsided. They could hear the thud and creak as Commodus threw himself back on the bed—then writhing again and groans of agony. Between the spasms Commodus began to frame