“They told a story in Rome,” said Lateranus, [55] “that the head was brought to Popp?a. Do you think that it is true? Did Epicharis ever say anything about it to you ?”
“No,” replied Fannius; “she never knew what became of the body. She was never allowed to see it; it was burnt that night, she was told.”
“And so this is the true story of Octavia,” said Subrius after a pause. “You remember, Lateranus, there was a great thanksgiving for the Emperor’s deliverance from dangerous enemies, and the enemy was this poor girl. Why don’t the gods, if they indeed exist (which I sometimes doubt), rain down their thunderbolts upon those who mock them with these blasphemous pretences?”
“Verily,” cried Lateranus, “if they had been so minded Rome would have been burnt up long ago. Have you not observed that we are particularly earnest in thanking heaven when some more than usually atrocious villainy has been perpetrated?”
The gladiator looked with a continually increasing astonishment on the two men who used language of such unaccustomed freedom. Subrius thought it time to make another step in advance.
“As you have taken us into your confidence,” he said, “about the contents of your will, you will not mind my asking you a question about these matters.”
“Certainly not,” answered the man. “You need not be afraid of offending me.”
“If things go well with you, as there is every hope [56] of their doing, and you get your discharge all right, what do you look forward to?”
The gladiator shifted his position two or three times uneasily, and made what seemed an attempt to speak, but did not succeed in uttering a word.
“If Epicharis does not become your legatee, as I sincerely hope she may not, is she to have no interest in your money?”
“Ah, sir, she will make no promises, or rather, she talks so wildly that she might as well say nothing all.”
“What do you mean?”
“I may trust you, gentlemen, for I am putting her life as well as my own in your hands?”
“Speak on boldly. Surely we have both of us said enough this evening to bring our necks into danger, if you chose to inform against us. We are all sailing in the same ship.”
“It is true. I ought not to have doubted. Well, what she says to me is this, ‘Avenge my dear mistress on those who murdered her, and then ask me what you please.’ She won’t hear of anything else. I have asked her what I could do, a simple gladiator, who has not even the power to go hither or thither as he pleases. She has only one answer, ‘Avenge Octavia!’ “
“It is not so hopeless as you think. There many who hold that Octavia should be avenged, aye, and others besides Octavia. We are biding our [57] time, and there are many things that seem to show that it is not far off. You will be with us then, Fannius?”
“Certainly,” said the gladiator. “I want to hear nothing more; the fewer names I know, the better, for then I cannot possibly betray them. Only give me the word, and I follow. But how about Epicharis?” he went on; “is she to hear anything?”
“I don’t like letting women into a secret,” said Lateranus.
“Nor I,” said Subrius, “as a rule; but if there is any truth in faces, this particular woman will keep a secret and hold to a purpose better than most of us. Shall we leave it to Fannius’ discretion?”
To this Lateranus agreed.
After some more conversation the gladiator rose to take his leave. A minute or so afterwards he returned to the room. “Gentlemen,” he said, “there is a great fire to be seen from a window in the passage, and from what I can see it must be in the Circus, or, anyhow, very near it.”
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A GREAT FIRE
[58] THE two friends hurried to the window. At the very moment of their reaching it a great flame shot up into the air. It was easy to distinguish by its light the outline of the Circus, the white polished marble of which shone like gold with the reflection of the blaze.
“It can scarcely be the Circus itself that is on fire,” cried Subrius; “the light seems to fall upon it from without. But the place must be dangerously near to it. Hurry back, Fannius, as quick as you can. We shall come after you as soon as possible, and shall look out for you at the Southeastern Gate.”
The gladiator ran off at the top of his speed, and the two friends lost no time in making themselves ready to follow him. Discarding the dress of ceremony in which they had sat down to dinner, for indeed, the folds of the toga were not a little encumbering, they both equipped themselves in something like the costume which they would have assumed for a hunting expedition, an outer and an inner tunic, drawers reaching to the knee, leggings and boots. Lateranus was by far the larger man of [59] the two; but one of his freedmen was able to furnish the Pr?torian with what he wanted.
“Don’t let us forget the hunting-knives,” said Lateranus; “we may easily want something wherewith to defend ourselves, for a big fire draws to it all the villains in the city.”
By this time all Rome knew what was going on, and the friends, when they descended into the street, found themselves in the midst of a crowd that was eagerly hurrying towards the scene of action. A fire exercised the same fascination on the Roman public that it exercises to-day in London or Paris. No one allowed his dignity to stand in the way of his enjoying it; no one was so weak but that he made shift to be a spectator. Senators and Knights struggled for places with artisans and slaves; and of course, women brought their babies, as they have brought them from time immemorial on the most inconvenient and incongruous occasions.
Arrived at the spot, the friends found that the conflagration was even more extensive and formidable than they had anticipated. The Circus was still untouched, but it was in imminent danger. A shop where oil for the Circus lamps had been sold was burning fiercely, and it was separated from the walls of the great building only by a narrow passage. As for the shop itself, there was no hope of saving it; the. flames had got such a mastery over it that had the Roman appliances for extinguishing fire been ten [60] times more effective than they were, they could hardly have made any impression upon them. To keep the adjoining buildings wet with deluges of water was all that could be done. A more effective expedient would have been, of course, to pull them down. Subrius, who was a man of unusual energy and resource, actually proposed this plan of action to the officer in command of the Watch, a body of men who performed the functions of a fire-brigade. The suggestion was coldly received. The officer had received, he said, no orders, and could not take upon himself so much responsibility. And who was to compensate the owners, he asked. And indeed, the time had hardly come for the application of so extreme a remedy. As a matter of fact, it is always employed too late. Again and again enormous loss might be prevented if the vigorous measures which have to be employed at the last had been taken at the first. No one, indeed, could blame the Prefect of the Watch for his unwillingness to take upon himself so serious a responsibility, but the conduct of his subordinates was less excusable. They did nothing, or next to nothing, in checking the fire. More than this, they refused, and even repulsed with rudeness, the offers of assistance made by the bystanders. A cordon was formed to keep the spectators at a distance from the burning houses; for by this time the buildings on either side had caught fire. This would have been well enough, if it had been desired that the firemen [61] should work unimpeded by the pressure of a curious mob; but, as far as could be seen, they did nothing themselves, and suffered nothing to be done by others.
Subrius and Lateranus, though they were persons of too much distinction to be exposed to insult, found themselves unable to do any good. They were chafing under their forced inaction, when they were accosted by the gladiator.
“Come, gentlemen,” he said; “let us see what can be done. The fire has broken out in two fresh places, and this time inside the Circus.”
“In two places!” cried Subrius in astonishment. “That is an extraordinary piece of bad luck. Has the wind carried the flames there?”
“Hardly, sir,” replied the man, “for the night, you see, is fairly still, and both places, too, are at the other end of the building.”