“You are pleased to jest, noble Subrius, about the worshipful goddess. What has a poor gladiator, who cannot call his life his own for more than a few hours to do with marriage? And Epicharis, though Venus knows I love her as my own soul, has her thought on very different matters.”
[41] “Well, well, never despair!” returned the Tribune. “Venus will touch the haughty fair some day with her whip. But, Fannius, when are you coming to see me? It seems an age since we had a talk together. My friend here, too, who is to be Consul next year, wishes to make your acquaintance.”
“I am not my own master, you know; but if I can get leave, I will come to-night.”
“So be it; at the eleventh (Footnote: This would be something more than an hour before sunset. The Roman day, whatever its length, was divided into twelve hours. An hour in July would be, therefore, rather more than sixty minutes.) hour I shall expect you.”
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A NEW ALLY
[42] “LATERANUS,” said the Pr?torian to his friend, as they sat together after dinner, “did you notice the face of the girl who was taking leave of our friend Fannius when we first espied him this afternoon?”
“Yes, indeed, I did,” said the Consul elect; “it was a face that no one could help noticing, and having once seen, could hardly forget.”
“That is exactly as it struck me; and I am sure that I have seen it before; and not so very long ago. But where? That puzzles me. Now and then I seem to have it, but then it slips away again. Depend upon it, she is no ordinary woman. Very beautiful she is, but somehow it is not the beauty, but the resolute strength of her face that impresses one. And what did the man mean when he said that she ‘thought about other things.’ I have a sort of presentiment that she will help us.”
“You surprise me,” said Lateranus. “And yet�”
At this point he was interrupted by the appearance of a slave who announced the arrival of the expected guest.
[43] For some time the conversation was general, Fannius taking his part in it with an ease and readiness that surprised Lateranus, and even exceeded the expectations of his old friend and landlord. It naturally turned, before very long, on the details of life in the “gladiators’ school.” Fannius explained that he had only a few more weeks to serve. After the next show, which was to take place in September, he would be entitled to his discharge. He had been extraordinarily successful in his profession, and the “golden youth” of Rome, who had backed him against competitors, and won not a little by his victories, had made him liberal presents. “You have always taken a kind interest in my fortunes,” he said to Subrius, “and I am not afraid of worrying you with these matters. If I live to receive the wooden sword, (Footnote: A gladiator who had served his time received a wooden sword (rudis) in token of his discharge.) I shall have a comfortable independence. But who knows what may happen? a gladiator, least of all. You know, sir, the proverb about the pitcher and the fountain. And that reminds me of a little service that I have been thinking of asking you to do for me. I should even have ventured to call, if you had not been kind enough to come. I want you to take charge of what I have been able to save. I should have made a will, and asked you to do me the service of seeing its provisions carried out in case of need, but I feel doubtful whether, situated as I am, I can [44] make a will that would be valid. What I will ask you to do, then, will be this, to take charge of my property now, and if anything should happen to me, to distribute it according to the directions contained in this paper.”
“Very good,” replied Subrius. “The gods forbid that there should arise any need for my services, but, if there should, you may be sure that I will not fail in my duty as your friend.”
“Many thanks, sir,” said Fannius, producing some papers from his pocket. “These are acknowledgments from Cassius, the banker, of deposits which I have made with him. Thras has charge of what I possess in coin, and will have instructions to hand it over to you. And here is the paper of directions. Will you please to read it? Is it quite plain?”
“Perfectly so,” answered the Tribune. “But there is one question which I must take the liberty of asking. You mention a certain Epicharis. Who is she? Where am I to look for her?”
“She lives with her aunt by marriage. Galla is the aunt’s name, and she cultivates a little farm on this side of Gabii. Any one there will direct you to it. She is the young woman whom you saw speaking to me this afternoon.”
“I guessed as much,” said Subrius, “and I have been puzzling myself ever since trying to make sure whether I had seen her before.”
“That you might very easily have done,” replied [45] the gladiator. “She was much with the Empress Octavia. Indeed, she was her foster-sister.”
“Ah!” cried Subrius; “that accounts for it. Now I remember all about it. I was on guard in the Palace with my cohort on the day when the Empress Octavia was sent away to Campania. My men were lining the stairs as the Empress came down. The poor Empress was almost fainting. Two of her women were supporting her, one on each side. I remember how much struck I was with the look of one of them, far more Imperial, I thought, than that of the unhappy creature she was holding up. ‘That is a woman,’ I said to myself, ‘whom no man will wrong with impunity!’ It was not a face to be forgotten. I remembered it at once when I saw it this afternoon; but I could not fix the time and place. Now you have enlightened me.”
“Yes, yes,” said Fannius, “you are right; she was with the Empress then; indeed, she remained with her till her death. Oh! sir, it is a piteous story that she tells. But perhaps I had better not speak about those things.”
“Speak on without fear,” replied the Pr?torian. “I am one of the Emperor’s soldiers, and my friend here has received the honour of the Consulship from him; but we have not therefore ceased to be Romans and men. Whatever you may tell us will be safely kept�”
The speaker paused, and then added in a deliberate and meaning tone, “As long as it may be necessary to keep it.”
[46] The gladiator cast a quick glance at him, and resumed. “Well, Epicharis was with her mistress from the unlucky day when she was carried across the threshold of her husband’s house, (Footnote: Octavia was married to Nero in 53 A.D.) down to the very end. They were both children then, only twelve years of age, and the poor Empress was really never anything else. But Epicharis soon learnt to be a woman. From almost the first she had to protect her mistress. Nero never loved his wife. Epicharis says she was too good for him, or, indeed, for almost any man; that she ought to have had a philosopher or a priest for her husband.”
“I don’t know that philosophers or priests are better than other men,” interrupted Subrius; “but go on.”
“Well, as I said, Nero never loved her, but, for a time, he was decently civil to her. Then her brother died, was�”
“Was poisoned, you were going to say,” said Subrius. “That is no secret. Everybody in Rome knows it.”
“Epicharis tells me that the Empress never shed a tear. She had learnt to hide her feelings, as children do when they are afraid of their elders. Then the Empress-mother came by her end. As long as she was alive the wife’s lot was tolerable. But after that�oh! gentlemen, I could not bring myself to say a tenth of the things that I have heard. They [47] are too dreadful. The poorest, unhappiest woman had not so much to bear. I used to think when I was a boy that the fine ladies who lived in great houses, and were dressed in gay silks, and rode about in soft cushioned carriages, must be happy; but now that I have had a look at what goes on behind palace walls, I don’t think so any more. Then came what you saw, sir, on the palace stairs. It is no wonder that the poor Empress should look miserable after what she had gone through in those days, seeing, for instance, her slave-girls tortured in the hope that something might be wrung out of them against her. Epicharis herself they did not touch; she was free, you see; but they threatened her. I warrant they got nothing by that. She has a tongue, and knows how to use it. She let that monster Tigellinus know what she thought of him, and his master too. She has told me that she saw the Emperor wince once and again at the answers she made. Then Octavia was sent away. It was a great relief to go; to be away from the dreadful palace. She ran about the gardens and grounds of the villa,�it was to Burrus’ house near Misenum, you will remember, she was sent,�and made friends with the little children; in fact, she was happier than she had ever been in her life before. ‘Now that I am out of their way, and do not interfere with their plans, they will let me alone, and, perhaps, forget me.’ This is what she would say to Epicharis. ‘I am sure that I don’t want to marry [48] again, and you had better follow my example, dear sister,’�she would often call Epicharis ‘sister.’ ‘Husbands seem very strange creatures, so difficult to please, and always imagining such strange things about one. You and I will live together for the rest of our lives, and take care of the poor people. It really is much nicer than Rome, which, you know, I never really liked.’ So she would go on. She did not seem to have any fears, the relief of being free after eight years’ slavery�for really her life was nothing else�was so great. But Epicharis never deceived herself, though she had not the heart to undeceive her mistress. Indeed, what would have been the good? The poor woman was fast in the toils, and the hunters were sure to come. But it was of no use to tell her so, and make her miserable before the time. But, as I said, Epicharis was clever enough to know what the end must be. She was sure that Nero would never let Octavia alone.”