THE ROBE (80 page)

'Little Boots has been much occupied,' he said. 'What with the funeral
of old Tiberius, his own coronation, and the festal week, he hasn't had much
time to think about anything else. Moreover, his legionaries have all been on
duty in the processions and at the games. But he will not forget you. Better
wait a little while longer.'

Antonia had slipped an arm around Diana affectionately.

'You can see that Appius wants to keep you here, dear, as long as
possible--and so do Antony and I.'

Diana knew that. Their hospitality had been boundless. She had come to
love Antonia, and young Antony's attitude toward her had been but little short
of worship.

'You have all been so kind,' she said. 'But my mother will be dreadfully
worried. Naturally they would go first to her seeking information about me. All
she knows is that I escaped from Capri in a little boat. I can't even send her
a message, for the guards would trace it back to Arpino.'

Sometimes in the evening Demetrius, who was working in the vineyard and
lodging with Vobiscus, would come to inquire. Diana would tell him to be
patient, but she knew he was consumed with restlessness and anxious to rejoin
Marcellus.

One night at dinner, Kaeso had seemed so preoccupied that Diana felt
something had happened. When they returned to the atrium, Vobiscus was found
waiting with a note for her. It had been hastily written--in Greek. Demetrius
was just leaving for Rome, hoping to find his master.

'My presence here only adds to your danger,' he wrote. 'Kaeso approves
my going. He has been most generous. Follow his advice. Do not try to
communicate with your home. I shall see your mother if possible.'

Vobiscus had tarried near the open doorway to the peristyle, and Diana
went to him. Had Demetrius left on foot, or was he driving the donkey?

'He rode one of the master's fast horses,' said Vobiscus, 'and wore an
outfit of the master's clothing.'

Diana rejoined the family seated about the fountain. Their voices were
low. She felt they had been discussing her problem.

'You were very kind to Demetrius,' she said, softly. 'I hope you know
how deeply I appreciate what you have done for him--and for me--and Marcellus.'

Kaeso made a negligent gesture, but his eyes were troubled.

'The Greek was not safe here,' he said, soberly. 'Indeed, nobody is any
longer safe anywhere! Two of our carters returned this afternoon, from Rome.
The city is in disorder. Drunken mobs of vandals have been looting the shops
and assaulting respectable citizens. The Emperor pretends to believe that the
Christians have a hand in it, and they are being thrown into prison and
whipped.'

The colour left Diana's cheeks.

'I wonder how Marcellus is faring,' she said. 'He would do so little to
protect himself.'

'Our men say that the search for your Greek has become active again,'
said Kaeso, 'and for you too, Diana. It appears that Demetrius is wanted on an
old charge of having assaulted a Tribune. He is to be taken, dead or alive. As
for you, the Emperor pretends to be concerned about your safety. The rumour is
that the Greek slave made off with you, and Caligula wants you to be found.'

'Poor Demetrius!' murmured Diana. 'What chance will he have, with so
many looking for him?'

'Well, he knows his life is worth nothing if they catch him,' said
Kaeso, grimly. 'He will make them earn their reward: you may be sure of that!'

'Was he armed?' wondered Diana.

'Nothing but a dagger,' said Kaeso.

'Appius is posting sentries at elevated points on our two highways,'
said Antonia. 'The sight of legionaries approaching will be their signal to
speed back here and report.'

'When they were here before,' said Kaeso, 'they searched the villa
thoroughly, but never so much as turned their heads to inquire among the
labourers. They would not expect to find the daughter of Legate Gallus working
in a vineyard.'

'Why, that is just the place for me, then!' exclaimed Diana.

Antonia and Appius exchanged glances.

'Appius hesitated to suggest it,' said Antonia.

'It might be fun,' said Diana.

'Early in the morning, then,' said Kaeso, relieved. 'Antonia will find
you suitable clothing. I wish there were some other way to hide you, Diana--but
you are not safe here in the villa. It is possible that if they found you they might
treat you with every consideration, but it's the Emperor's doing--and
everything he does is evil!'

About two hours after midnight, old Lentius--dead asleep on his pallet
of straw in the corner of a vacant box-stall--came suddenly awake and raised
himself on both elbows to listen. Bambo, who always slept beside him, was
listening sharply too, and growling ominously.

From outside in the stableyard came the sound of sandals and hoofs.

Someone was leading a horse. Lentius took down his dim lantern from its
peg and unfastened the door. Bambo scurried out with savage threats, but in an
instant was barking joyfully. Lentius trudged after him, holding the lantern
high.

'No, no, Bambo!' came a weary voice. 'Make him shut up, Lentius. He'll
rouse the house.'

'Demetrius!' The bent old man peered up into a haggard face. 'Rub this
horse down, Lentius. I've abused him. Careful about the water. He's very hot.'
Demetrius patted the sagging head sympathetically.

'Bring him in here.' Lentius led the way into his bedchamber. 'They've
been hunting you!' he said, in a husky whisper, as he closed the door. 'See
here! This horse has been hurt! There's blood all over his shoulder and down
his leg!'

'That's mine,' mumbled Demetrius, stripping his shoulder bare. 'I was
being pursued by three cavalrymen--out on the Via Appia, about five miles. I
outdistanced two of them, but one overtook me, and nicked me with his sword
while I was dragging him out of his saddle. Find me some water, Lentius, and a
bandage.'

The old slave examined the deep cut and drew a hissing breath through
his lips.

'That's a bad one!' he muttered. 'You've lost a lot of blood. Your tunic
is soaked. Look at your sandal! You'd better lie down over there!'

'I think I will,' said Demetrius, weakly, tumbling down on the pallet.
Lentius was hovering over him with a basin of water and a sponge. Bambo sniffed
inquisitively and turned away to lick the horse's foreleg. 'Lentius, has
Tribune Marcellus been here lately?'

Lentius stopped laving the wound, and stared.

'The Tribune! Hadn't you heard? He's been dead--these three months or
more! Drowned himself in the sea--poor young master.'

'Lentius, you were fond of the young master, and he liked you. I'm going
to trust you with a secret. Now, you're not to repeat this to anybody!
Understand? The Tribune is alive--here in Rome.'

'No!' exulted the old man. 'Why doesn't he come home?'

'He will, some day. Lentius, I wonder if you could wake up Marcipor
without tearing the house down.'

'It would be easier to waken Decimus. He is on the first floor.'

'I don't want Decimus. Here, let me get up. I'll go myself.' Demetrius
made an effort to rise, but sank down again. 'I'm weaker than I thought,' he
admitted. 'See if you can get Marcipor. Throw something into his room, and when
he comes to the window tell him you want him. Don't speak my name. And ask him
to bring some bandages. This isn't going to do any good. Give that horse
another drink of water now. Go away, Bambo!'

Marcipor arrived presently, much excited and out of breath, followed by
old Lentius.

'You're badly hurt, my son!' he murmured. 'We must send for the
physician.'

'No, Marcipor,' objected Demetrius. 'I'd rather take my chances with
this sword-wound than risk having my head cut off. . . . Lentius, if you have
another vacant stall, take this friendly horse away and clean him up. And you
might take the dog too. Marcipor will look after me.'

Reluctantly, old Lentius led out the tired horse, Bambo following
dutifully. Marcipor fastened the door and knelt down in the straw close to
Demetrius. He began bandaging the cut.

'You're in danger!' he said, in a trembling voice.

'Not for the moment. Tell me, Marcipor, what's the news? Have you seen
anything of Marcellus?'

'He is in the Catacombs.'

'Weird place to hide!'

'Not so bad as you'd think. The Christians have been stocking it with
provisions for months. More than a hundred men down there now; the ones who
have been identified and are being hunted.'

'They'll be caught like hares in a trap--when the patrols discover where
they are.'

'No, it won't be so easy as that,' said Marcipor. 'There are miles of
confusing tunnels in that old hideout. The legionaries will not be anxious to
go down single-file into that dark hole. They know the old stories about
searching parties who went into the Catacombs to hunt fugitive Jews--and never
found their way out. . . . How does it feel, Demetrius? Is that too tight?'

There was no answer. Marcipor laid his ear against Demetrius's bared
chest, listened, shook him gently, called him in a frightened voice, splashed
water in his face; but without response. For an instant he stood irresolute,
desperate; then ran panting toward the house, wondering whom he should call for
help. Gallio, in his nightclothes, was descending the stairs as Marcipor rushed
through the atrium.

'What is the commotion about, Marcipor?' he demanded.

'It's Demetrius, sir!' cried Marcipor. 'He is wounded--dying--out here
in the stable!'

'Have you sent for the physician?' asked Gallio, leading the way with
long strides.

'No, sir, he did not want a physician. He is in hiding.'

'Put one of the servants on a horse--instantly--and summon Sarpedon. And
find help to carry Demetrius into the house. He shall not die in a stable--like
a dog!'

Lentius was holding up the lantern for him as Gallio hurried into the
stall. 'Demetrius!' he called. 'Demetrius!'

The sunken eyes slowly opened and Demetrius sighed painfully.

'At--your--service, sir.' His white lips moved clumsily.

'Attention!' barked Gallio, surveying the wide-eyed group that had crowded
about the door. 'Take him up carefully and bring him to the house. Put him in
Marcellus's room, Marcipor. Get him out of these soiled garments and wrap him
in heated blankets.'

There was a little excitement in the stableyard as one of the younger
slaves made off at a gallop for Sarpedon. A half-dozen grooms and gardeners
gathered about the straw pallet and raised it gently.

'You should have called me at once, Marcipor!' said Gallio, sternly, as
they followed toward the house. 'Am I then known among you to be so heartless
that I must not be told when a loyal servant is sick unto death?'

'It was difficult to know what to do,' stammered Marcipor. 'He is being
hunted down. He would not have come here, sir, but he wanted to inquire about
his master.'

'Meaning me?' Gallio halted abruptly in Marcipor's path.

'Meaning Marcellus, sir.'

'But--had he had not heard?'

'He thinks Marcellus is still alive, sir.' Marcipor's voice was weak.
'Demetrius believes that his master is here--in Rome.' They moved past the
slaves, shuffling along with their burden, and mounted the steps.

'You told him the truth?' asked Gallio, dejectedly.

'That is the truth, sir,' confessed Marcipor. He put out a hand to
steady Gallio, whose face was working convulsively.

'Why have I not been told this?' he demanded, hoarsely.

'Marcellus is a Christian, sir. They are being closely watched. He did
not want to endanger the family by coming home.'

'Where is he, Marcipor?' Gallio was climbing the stairs, slowly, a very
old man clutching at the balustrade.

'In the Catacombs, sir,' whispered Marcipor.

'What? My son? Down in those old caves with a rabble of brawlers and
looters?'

'Not rabble, sir!' disputed Marcipor, recklessly. 'Not brawlers! Not
looters! They are honest men of peace, hiding from a cruel idiot who calls
himself an Emperor!'

'Quiet, Marcipor!' commanded Gallio, in a husky whisper, as they passed
the apartment of Lucia--at home for a few days while Tullus was on special
duty. 'How can we get word to my son?'

'It will jeopardize the household, sir, if Marcellus is traced here.'

'Never mind that! Send for him!'

The slaves had deposited Demetrius on his bed now and were filing out of
the room.

'Hold your tongues--about this!' Marcipor said warningly. He was closing
the door on them when Tertia appeared, much frightened.

'What has happened, Marcipor?' She glanced into the room, gave a
smothered cry, and dashed through the doorway, throwing herself down on her
knees beside the bed. 'Oh, what have they done to you?' she moaned.
'Demetrius!'

Marcipor laid his hand on her shoulder.

'Come,' he said, gently. 'You must help. Go and find more blankets, and
heat them.'

'I cannot send for Marcellus, sir.' Marcipor was tugging off his
friend's blood-soaked tunic. 'There is no one in this house--except myself--who
would be admitted to the Catacombs.'

'And why should they admit
you?'
challenged Gallio sharply. 'You
are not one of them, are you?'

Marcipor nodded gravely and busied himself unstrapping Demetrius's
sandals.

'Then, saddle a couple of horses--and go!' commanded Gallio. 'Here! let
me do that!' He turned back his sleeves and attacked the stiffened
sandal-straps.

Presently Tertia returned with additional blankets, followed by Lucia
with a cup of mulled wine. Gallio took the spoon from her hand and poured a few
drops of the hot stimulant between Demetrius's parted lips. He swallowed
unconsciously. Gallio raised him up a little and put the cup to his mouth, but
he did not respond to it. Tertia was sobbing. Lucia gave her a gentle push and
pointed to the door.