THE ROBE (3 page)

'Diana! If you thought you had such a dangerous secret, why should you
tell that romping infant Diana?'

'Because she was afraid of him, too, and understood my reasons for not
wanting to be left alone with him. But Diana is not a baby, Marcellus. She is nearly
sixteen. And--if you pardon my saying so--I think you should stop mussing her
hair, and tickling her under the chin, when she comes here to visit me--as if
she were five, and you a hundred.'

'Sorry! It hadn't occurred to me that she would resent my playful
caresses. I never thought of her except as a child--like yourself.'

'Well--it's time you realized that Diana is a young woman. If she
resents your playful caresses, it is not because they are caresses but because
they are playful.' Lucia hesitated; then continued softly, her eyes intent on
her brother's gloomy face. 'She might even like your caresses--if they meant
anything. I think it hurts her, Marcellus, when you call her
"Sweetheart."'

'I had not realized that Diana was so sensitive,' mumbled Marcellus.
'She is certainly stormy enough when anything displeases her. She was audacious
enough to demand that her name be changed.'

'She hated to be called Asinia, Marcellus,' said Lucia, loyally. 'Diana
is prettier, don't you think?'

'Perhaps,' shrugged Marcellus. 'Name of a silly goddess. The name of the
Asinius stock is noble; means something!'

'Don't be tiresome, Marcellus!' snapped Lucia. 'What I am saying is:
Diana would probably enjoy having you call her "Sweetheart"--if--'

Marcellus, who had been restlessly panthering about, drew up to inspect
his sister with sudden interest.

'Are you trying to imply that this youngster thinks she is fond of me?'

'Of course! And I think you're pretty dumb, not to have noticed it! Come
and sit down--and compose yourself. Our breakfast is on the way.'

Marcellus glanced casually in the direction of the house; then stared
frowningly; then rubbed his eyes with his fists, and stared again. Lucia's lips
puckered into a reluctant grin.

'In truth, my sister,' he groaned, 'I am in much worse condition than I
had supposed.'

'You're all right, Tribune,' she drawled. 'There really are two of
them.'

'Thanks! I am relieved. Are they as bright as they are beautiful?' he
asked, as the twins neared.

'It is too early to tell. This is their first day on duty. Don't
frighten them, Marcellus. They're already scared half out of their wits. They
have never worked before . . . No, no, Bambo! Come here!'

Rosy with embarrassment, the Macedonians began unburdening their silver
trays, fussily pretending they were not under observation.

'Cute little things; aren't they?' chirped Marcellus. 'Where did Father
pick them up?'

'Don't!' whispered Lucia. She rose and walked to the balustrade, her
brother sauntering after her. They turned their faces toward the city. 'What
did Tullus think of what you did?' she asked, irrelevantly.

'Tell me'--Marcellus ignored her query--'is there anything peculiar
about these slaves that makes you so extraordinarily considerate?'

Lucia shook her head, without looking up--and sighed.

'I was just thinking,' she said, at length, 'how I might feel if I were
in their place.' Her troubled eyes lifted to meet his look of inquiry. 'It is
not impossible, Marcellus, that I may soon find myself in some such
predicament. . . . You wouldn't like that. Would you?'

'Nonsense!' he growled, out of the corner of his mouth. 'You're making
too great a disaster of this! Nothing's going to happen. I'll see to that.'

'How?' demanded Lucia. 'How are you going to see to it?'

'Well'--temporized Marcellus--'what do you think I should do--short of
going to that ugly reptile with an apology?'

Lucia brightened a little and laid her hand on his arm.

'Do that!' she pleaded. 'Today! Make peace with him, Marcellus! Tell him
you were drunk. You were; weren't you?'

'I'd rather be flogged--in the marketplace!'

'Yes--I know. And perhaps you will be. Gaius is dangerous!'

'Ah--what could he do? Tiberius would not permit his half-witted stepson
to punish a member of the Gallio family. It's common knowledge that the old man
despises him.'

'Yes--but Tiberius consented to his regency because Julia demanded it.
And Julia still has to be reckoned with. If it came to a decision whether that
worn-out old man should stand up for the Gallio family--against Gaius--with his
shrewish wife screaming in his ears, I doubt that he would trouble himself.
Julia would stop at nothing!'

'The vindictive old--' Marcellus paused on the edge of a kennel word.

'Think it over.' Lucia's tone was brighter, as if she felt herself
gaining ground. 'Come--let us eat our breakfast. Then you will go to Gaius, and
take your medicine. Praise him! Flatter him! He can stand any amount of it.
Tell him he is beautiful! Tell him there's nobody in the whole Empire as wise
as he is. Tell him he is divine! But--be sure you keep your face straight.
Gaius already knows you have a keen sense of humor.'

Having decided to accept his sister's counsel, Marcellus was anxious to
perform his unpleasant duty and be done with it. Prudence suggested that he
seek an interview through the formal channels and await the convenience of the
Prince; but, increasingly impressed by the gravity of his position, he resolved
to ignore the customary court procedure and take a chance of seeing Gaius
without an appointment. By appearing at the Palace shortly before noon, he
might even be lucky enough to have a few minutes alone with the Prince before
anyone had informed him about last night's mishap.

At ten, rejuvenated by a hot bath, a vigorous massage by Demetrius, and
a plunge in the pool, the Tribune returned to his rooms, dressed with care, and
sauntered downstairs. Observing that the library door was ajar, he paused to
greet his father, whom he had not seen since yesterday. The handsome,
white-haired Senator was seated at his desk, writing. He glanced up, nodded,
smiled briefly, and invited Marcellus to come in.

'If you are at liberty today, my son, I should be pleased to have you go
with me to inspect a span of matched Hispanian mares.'

'I should like to, sir; but might tomorrow serve as well? I have an
important errand to do; something that cannot be put off.' There was a note of
anxiety in the Tribune's voice that narrowed the wise old eyes.

'Nothing serious, I trust.' Gallio pointed to a vacant seat.

'I hope not, sir.' Marcellus sat tentatively on the broad arm of the
chair as a fair compromise between candid reticence and complete explanation.

'Your manner,' observed his father, pointedly, 'suggests that you are
worried. I have no wish to intrude upon your private perplexities, but is there
anything I might do for you?'

'I'm afraid not, sir; thank you.' After a moment of indecision,
Marcellus slowly slid into the chair and regarded his distinguished parent with
a sober face. 'If you have the time, I will tell you.'

Gallio nodded, put down his stylus, and leaned forward on his folded
arms encouragingly. It was quite a long narrative. Marcellus did not spare
himself. He told it all. At one juncture, he was half-disposed to introduce
Lucia's dilemma as relevant to his own; but decided against it, feeling that
their pater was getting about all he could take for one session. He concluded,
at length, with the declaration that he was going at once to apologize. Gallio,
who had listened attentively but without comment, now shook his leonine head
and shouted 'No!' He straightened and shook his head again. 'No!--No, no!'

Amazed by his father's outburst, for he had anticipated his full
approval, Marcellus asked, 'Why not, sir?'

'The most dangerous implement a man can use for the repair of a damaged
relationship is an abject apology.' Gallio pushed back his huge chair and rose
to his full height as if preparing to deliver an address. 'Even in the most
favorable circumstances, as when placating an injured friend, a self-abasing
apology may do much harm. If the friend is contented with nothing less, he
should not be served with it at all; for his friendship is not worth its
upkeep. In the case of Gaius, an apology would be a fatality; for you are not
dealing here with a gentleman, but with a congenital scoundrel. Your apology
will imply that you expect Gaius to be generous. Generosity, in his opinion, is
a sign of weakness. By imputing it to him, you will have given him further
offense. Gaius has reasons to be sensitive about his power. Never put yourself
on the defensive with a man who is fretting about his own insecurity. Here, he
says, is at least one opportunity to demonstrate my strength.'

'Perhaps you are right, sir,' conceded Marcellus.

'Perhaps? Of course, I am right!' The Senator walked to the door, closed
it softly, and resumed his seat. 'And that is not all,' he went on. 'Let me
refresh your mind about the peculiar relations in the imperial family which
explain why Gaius is a man to be watched and feared. There is old Tiberius,
alternately raging and rotting in his fifty-room villa on Capri; a pathetic and
disgusting figure, mooning over his necromancies and chattering to his gods--My
son,' Gallio interrupted himself, 'there is always something fundamentally
wrong with a rich man or a king who pretends to be religious. Let the poor and
helpless invoke the gods. That is what the gods are for--to distract the
attention of the weak from their otherwise intolerable miseries. When an
emperor makes much ado about religion, he is either cracked or crooked.
Tiberius is not crooked. If he is cracked, the cause is not far to seek. For a
score of years he has nursed a bitter grudge against his mother for demanding
that he divorce Vipsania--the only creature he ever loved--'

'I think he is fond of Diana,' interjected Marcellus.

'Right! And why? He is fond of the child because she is Vipsania's
granddaughter. Let us remember that he was not a bad ruler in his earlier days.
Rome had never known such prosperity; not even under Julius. As you know, when
Vipsania passed out of his life, Tiberius went to pieces; lost all interest in
the Empire; surrounded himself with soothsayers, mountebanks, priests, and
astrologers. Presently his mind was so deranged by all this nonsense that he
consented to marry Julia, whom he had despised from childhood.' The Senator
chuckled, not very pleasantly, and remarked: 'Perhaps that was why he wished to
be relieved of all his administrative duties. He found that to hate Julia as
adequately as she deserved to be hated, he had to make it a full-time
occupation. So--there was the vixenish Julia, together with the obnoxious
offspring she had whelped before he married her. And he has not only hated
Julia: he has been deathly afraid of her--and with good reason--for she has the
morbid mind of an assassin--and the courage, too.'

'Lucia says the old gentleman never touches his wine, at table, until
the Empress has tasted it,' put in Marcellus, 'but she thought that was just a
little family joke.'

'We will not disturb your young sister with any other interpretation,'
advised the Senator, 'but it is no joke; nor is Tiberius merely trying to be
playful when he stations a dozen Numidian gladiators at the doors and windows
of his bedchamber. . . . Now, these facts are, I suspect, never absent very
long from Gaius' mind. He knows that the Emperor is half-insane; that his
mother lives precariously; and that if anything should happen to her his
regency would last no longer than it takes a galley to clear for Crete with a
deposed prince on board.'

'Were that to happen,' broke in Marcellus, 'who would succeed Gaius?'

'Well--' Gallio slighted the query with a shrug. 'It will not happen. If
anyone dies, down there, it won't be Julia. You can depend on that.'

'But--just supposing--' persisted Marcellus. 'If, for any
reason--accident, illness, or forthright murder--Julia should be
eliminated--and Gaius, too, in consequence--do you think Tiberius might put
Asinius Gallus on the throne?'

'It is possible,' said Gallio. 'The Emperor might feel that he was making
tardy amends to Vipsania by honoring her son. And Gallus would be no mean
choice. No Roman has ever commanded more respect than Pollio, his learned sire.
Gallus would have the full support of our legions--both at home and abroad.
However'--he added, half to himself--'a brave soldier does not inevitably make
a wise monarch. Your military commander has only a foreign foe to fight. All
that he requires is tactics and bravery. An emperor is forever at war with a
jealous court, an obstreperous Senate, and a swarm of avaricious landholders.
What he needs is a keen scent for conspiracy, a mind crafty enough to
outmaneuver treachery, a natural talent for duplicity--and the hide of an
alligator.'

'Thick enough to turn the point of a stiletto,' assisted Marcellus.

'It is a hazardous occupation,' nodded Gallio, 'but I do not think our
excellent friend Gallus will ever be exposed to its dangers.'

'I wonder how Diana would like being a princess,' remarked Marcellus,
absently. He glanced up to find his father's eyes alight with curiosity.

'We are quite far afield, aren't we; discussing Diana?' observed Gallio,
slyly. 'Are you interested in her?'

'Not any more than Lucia is,' replied Marcellus, elaborately casual.
'They are, as you know, inseparable. Naturally, I see Diana almost every day.'

'A beautiful and amazingly vivacious child,' commented the Senator.

'Beautiful and vivacious,' agreed Marcellus--'but not a child. Diana is
nearly sixteen, you know.'

'Old enough to be married: is that what you are trying to say? You could
hardly do better--if she can be tamed. Diana has fine blood. Sixteen, eh? It is
a wonder Gaius has not noticed. He might do himself much good in the esteem of
the Emperor--and he certainly is in need of it--if he should win Diana's
favor.'