Now in Vergilius and in many of that time the human heart had dropped
its plummet into new depths of feeling, the human mind had made a reach
for nobler principles. A greater love between men and women, spreading
mysteriously, had been as the uplift of a mighty wave on the deep of
the spirit. It had broadened the sympathy of man; it had extended his
vision beyond selfish limits. Vergilius and Arria had crossed the
boundary of barbaric evolution under the leadership of love. The young
man was now in the borderland of new attainment. He was full of the
joy and the wonder of discovery. He was like a child--eager for
understanding and impatient of delay. Now he thought with the pagans
and now with the Jews.
At his palace a letter had been waiting for the tribune. It was from
his friend Appius. "My excellent and beloved Vergilius," it said, "I
address you with a feeling of deep concern for your safety. To-night
by tabellarius, my letter shall go down to the sea on its way to
Jerusalem. And now to its subject. This morning I went to the public
games, and, returning, I was near my palace when a messenger, bearing
the command of Augustus, overtook and stopped me. Quickly I made my
way to The Laurels. Our great imperator was in his chamber and reading
letters. He gave me a glance and greeted me. I saw he wished me to
come near, and I stood close beside him. Then, with that slow, gentle
tone, he hurled his lightning into me--you remember his way. He told
me, as he read, that you were making rapid progress in Jerusalem; that
you had become a conspirator, a prophet, and were likely soon to be an
angel. And he bade me go to you with his congratulations that you have
succeeded so long in keeping your head upon your shoulders. Oh, deep
and cunning imperator! Said he: 'I cannot tell you the name of my
informant; and really, my good son, why--why should I?' There, spread
before me on the table, so I knew he wished me to see it, was a letter
which bore the signature of Manius and gave information of a certain
council. I could not make out the name, but I was able to recall how
the great father had said to me, once, that when a man secretly puts
blame upon another, the infamy he charges shall be only half his own.
Our imperator is no fool, my friend. 'A ship will be leaving the
seventh day before the ides,' said he. '_You_ will not be able to make
it.' His meaning was clear. It could bear my warning, if not me, and
here it is. With the gods' favor, soon, also, I shall be able to say
to you, here am I. To-morrow at dawn I leave for Jerusalem."
Beneath the signature these words were added: "As soon as possible I
wish to know all and to speak my heart to you. The emperor has
withdrawn his consent to your marriage with Arria. I shall explain
everything but the purpose of the emperor, and who may understand him?
If it be due to caprice or doubt or anger he will do you justice. But
if a deeper motive is in his mind who knows what may happen?"
This letter kindled a fire in the heart of Vergilius. It burned
fiercely, so that prudence and noble feeling were driven out. In spite
of the warning of the young tribune, Manius had remained in Jerusalem.
Vergilius had delayed action, dreading to bring the wrath of Rome upon
one so young, so well born, so highly honored, and possibly so far
misled. Therefore, he had held his peace and waited patiently for more
knowledge. Now the evil heart of the assessor was laid bare, his
infamy proven. Vergilius reread the letter with flashing eyes. Then
he summoned his lecticarii and set out for the palace of the plotter.
Manius approached him, a kindly greeting on his lips.
"Liar!" Vergilius interrupted, his hand upon his sword. "Speak no word
of kindness to me!"
"What mean you, son of Varro?" the other demanded.
"That, with me, you have not even the right of an enemy. You are a
deadly serpent, born to creep and hide. Shame upon you--murderer! If
there be many like you, what--God tell me!--what shall be the fate of
Rome?"
Vergilius stepped away, and, lifting his hands, gave the other a look
of unspeakable scorn. Manius made no reply, but stood as still and
white as marble, with sword in hand.
"It was I who sat beside you that night," said the other, his voice
aglow with feeling. "When I heard you speak treason I cut off the end
of your girdle. But you left by some unguarded way and escaped the
fate of your fellows. You have not seen them since, and shall not.
When you see them die in the arena think what you escaped, although
deserving it more than they. Vile serpent! you brought the king, and
hoped to send me also to Hades. You are a traitor, and that I know.
Traitor to friend and country! Dare to provoke me further and I shall
slay you!"
"What would you, son of Varro?" said the other, sullenly.
"Wretch! If you would save your life, hide as becomes the asp. Creep
away from them who would put their feet upon you. Go live and die with
the wild men of the far deserts."
"Traitor to the gods!" said Manius, threatening with his sword. "Roman
Jew! I am of noble birth, and claim the right of combat."
"I give it, though you have no better right than dogs. Well, it would
please my hand to slay you. I know the name and father you have
dishonored, and you are grandnephew of the good Lady Claudia--noble
mother of Publius. For their sake I give you the right of combat. By
the wayside near Bethlehem are lonely hills. There, the seventh day
before the kalends, in the middle hour of the night, you shall see a
beacon-fire and near it my colors. Three friends may go with each, and
you and I will draw swords in the fire-light."
"I shall meet you there," said Manius. Vergilius, putting away his
weapon, turned quickly, and, without speaking, left the traitor's
palace with firm faith in the one God--that he was ever on the side of
the just who humbly sought his favor.