THE ROBE (2 page)

After Demetrius had bowed deeply and was turning to go, Lucia sauntered
past him and proceeded along the pavement for several yards. He followed her at
a discreet distance. When they were out of earshot, she paused and confronted
him.

'How does he happen to be up so early?' she asked, in a tone that was
neither perpendicular nor oblique, but frankly horizontal. 'Didn't he go to the
banquet?'

'The Tribune attended the banquet,' replied Demetrius, respectfully. 'It
is of that, perhaps, that he is impatient to speak.'

'Now don't tell me that he got into some sort of mess, Demetrius.' She
tried to invade his eyes, but the bridge was up.

'If so,' he replied, prudently, 'the Tribune may wish to report it
without the assistance of his slave. Shall I go now?'

'You were there, of course, attending my brother,' pursued Lucia. And
when Demetrius bowed an affirmative, she asked, 'Was Prince Gaius there?'
Demetrius bowed again, and she went on, uncertainly, 'Did you--was he--had you
an opportunity to notice whether the Prince was in good humor?'

'Very,' replied Demetrius--'until he went to sleep.'

'Drunk?' Lucia wrinkled her nose.

'It is possible,' deliberated Demetrius, 'but it is not for me to say.'

'Did the Prince seem friendly--toward my brother?' persisted Lucia.

'No more than usual.' Demetrius shifted his weight and glanced toward
the house.

Lucia sighed significantly, shook her black curls, and pouted.

'You can be very trying sometimes, Demetrius.'

'I know,' he admitted ruefully. 'May I go now? My master--'

'By all means!' snapped Lucia. 'And swiftly!' She turned and marched
back with clipped steps to the pergola. Something had gone wrong last night, or
Demetrius wouldn't have taken that frozen attitude.

Decimus, whose instinct advised him that his young mistress was
displeased, retreated to a safe distance. The twins, who had now finished
laying the table, were standing side by side awaiting orders. Lucia advanced on
them.

'What are you called?' she demanded, her tone still laced with
annoyance.

'I am Helen,' squeaked one of them, nervously. 'My sister is Nesta.'

'Can't she talk?'

'Please--she is frightened.'

Their long-lashed eyes widened with apprehension as Lucia drew closer,
but they did not flinch. Cupping her hands softly under their round chins, she
drew up their faces, smiled a little, and said, 'Don't be afraid. I won't bite
you.' Then--as if caressing a doll--she toyed with the tight little curls that
had escaped from Helen's cap. Turning to Nesta, she untied and painstakingly
retied her broad sash. Both girls' eyes were swimming. Nesta stopped a big tear
with the back of her hand.

'Now, now,' soothed Lucia, 'don't cry. No one is going to hurt you
here.' She impulsively abandoned the lullaby, drew herself erect, and declared
proudly: 'You belong to Senator Marcus Lucan Gallio! He paid a great price for
you--because you are valuable; and--because you are valuable--you will not be
mistreated. . . . Decimus'--she called, over her shoulder--'see that these
pretty children have new tunics; white ones--with coral trimmings.' She picked
up their hands, one by one, and examined them critically. 'Clean,' she
remarked, half aloud--'and beautiful, too. That is good.' Facing Decimus, she
said: 'You may go now. Take the twins. Have them bring the food. My brother
will have breakfast with me here. You need not come back.'

Lucia had never liked Decimus very well; not that there was any
particular ground for complaint, for he was a perfect servant; almost too
deferential, a chilling deference that lacked only a little of being sulkiness.
It had been Lucia's observation that imported slaves were more comfortable to
live with than the natives. Decimus had been born in Rome and had been in their
family for almost as long as Lucia could remember. He had a responsible
position: attended to all the purchasing of supplies for their tables,
personally interviewed the merchants, visited the markets, met the foreign
caravans that brought spices and other exotics from afar; a very competent
person indeed, who minded his own business, kept his own counsel, and carried
himself with dignity. But he was a stranger.

One never could feel toward Decimus as one did toward good old Marcipor
who was always so gentle--and trustworthy too. Marcipor had managed the
business affairs of the family for so long that he probably knew more about
their estate than Father did.

Decimus bowed gravely now, as Lucia dismissed him, and started toward
the house, his stiff back registering disapproval of this episode that had
flouted the discipline he believed in and firmly exercised. The Macedonians,
their small even teeth flashing an ecstatic smile, scampered away, hand in
hand, without waiting for formal permission. Lucia stopped them in their tracks
with a stern command.

'Come back here!' she called severely. They obeyed with spiritless feet
and stood dejectedly before her. 'Take it easy,' drawled Lucia. 'You shouldn't
romp when you're on duty. Decimus does not like it.'

They looked up shyly from under their long lashes, and Lucia's lips
curled into a sympathetic grin that relighted their eyes.

'You may go now,' she said, abruptly resuming a tone of command.
Lounging onto the long marble seat beside the table, she watched the twins as
they marched a few paces behind Decimus, their spines straight and stiff as
arrows, accenting each determined step with jerks of their heads from side to
side, in quite too faithful imitation of the crusty butler. Lucia chuckled.
'The little rascals,' she muttered. 'They deserve to be spanked for that.' Then
she suddenly sobered and sat studiously frowning at the rhythmic flexion of her
sandaled toes. Marcellus would be here in a moment. How much--if
anything--should she tell her adored brother about her unpleasant experience
with Gaius? But first, of course, she must discover what dreadful thing had
happened last night at the Tribunes' Banquet.

'Good morning, sweet child!' Marcellus tipped back his sister's head,
noisily kissed her between the eyes, and tousled her hair, while Bambo, his big
black sheep-dog, snuggled his grinning muzzle under her arm and wagged amiably.

'Down! Both of you!' commanded Lucia. 'You're uncommonly bright this
morning, Tribune Marcellus Lucan Gallio. I thought you were going to a party at
the Club.'

'Ah--my infant sister--but what a party!' Marcellus gingerly touched his
finely moulded, close-cropped, curly head in several ailing areas, and winced.
'You may well be glad that you are not--and can never be--a Tribune. It was
indeed a long, stormy night.'

'A wet one, at any rate, to judge from your puffy eyes. Tell me about
it--or as much as you can remember.' Lucia scooped Bambo off the marble lectus
with her foot, and her brother eased himself onto the seat beside her. He
laughed, reminiscently, painfully.

'I fear I disgraced the family. Only the dear gods know what may come of
it. His Highness was too far gone to understand, but someone will be sure to
tell him before the day is over.'

Lucia leaned forward anxiously, laid a hand on his knee, and searched
his cloudy eyes.

'Gaius?' she asked, in a frightened whisper. 'What happened, Marcellus?'

'A poem,' he muttered, 'an ode; a long, tiresome, incredibly stupid ode,
wrought for the occasion by old Senator Tuscus, who, having reached that
ripeness of senescence where Time and Eternity are mistaken for each other--'

'Sounds as if you'd arrived there, too,' broke in Lucia. 'Can't you
speed it up a little?'

'Don't hurry me, impatient youth,' sighed Marcellus. 'I am very frail.
As I was saying, this interminable ode, conceived by the ancient Tuscus to
improve his rating, was read by his son Antonius, also in need of royal favor;
a grandiloquent eulogy to our glorious Prince.'

'He must have loved the flattery,' observed Lucia, 'and of course you
all applauded it. You and Tullus, especially.'

'I was just coming to that,' said Marcellus, thickly. 'For hours there
had been a succession of rich foods and many beverages; also a plentitude of
metal music interspersed with Greek choruses--pretty good--and an exhibition of
magic--pretty bad; and some perfunctory speeches, of great length and
thickness. A wrestling-match, too, I believe. The night was far advanced. Long
before Antonius rose, my sister, if any man among us had been free to consult
his own desire, we would all have stretched out on our comfortable couches and
slept. The gallant Tullus, of whose good health you are ever unaccountably
solicitous, sat across from me, frankly asleep like a little child.'

'And then you had the ode,' encouraged Lucia, crisply.

'Yes--we then had the ode. And as Antonius droned on--and on--he seemed
to recede farther and farther; his features became dimmer and dimmer; and the
measured noise he was making sounded fainter and fainter, as my tortured eyes
grew hotter and heavier--'

'Marcellus!' shouted Lucia. 'In the name of every immortal god! Get on
with it!'

'Be calm, impetuous child. I do not think rapidly today. Never again
shall I be anything but tiresome. That ode did something to me, I fear.
Well--after it had been inching along for leagues and decades, I suddenly
roused, pulled myself together, and gazed about upon the distinguished company.
Almost everyone had peacefully passed away, except a few at the high table
whose frozen smiles were held with clenched teeth; and Antonius' insufferable
young brother, Quintus, who was purple with anger. I can't stomach that
arrogant pup and he knows I despise him.'

'Gaius!' barked Lucia, in her brother's face, so savagely that Bambo
growled. 'I want to know what you did to offend Gaius!'

Marcellus laughed whimperingly, for it hurt; then burst into hysterical
guffaws.

'If the Glorious One had been merely asleep, quietly, decently, with his
fat chins on his bosom--as were his devoted subjects--your unfortunate brother
might have borne it. But our Prince had allowed his head to tip far back. His
mouth--by no means a thing of beauty, at best--was open. The tongue protruded
unprettily and the bulbous nose twitched at each resounding inhalation. Our banquet-hall
was deathly quiet, but for Antonius and Gaius, who shared the floor.'

'Revolting!' muttered Lucia.

'A feeble word, my sister. You should give more heed to your diction.
Well--at that fateful moment Antonius had reached the climax of his father's
ode with an apostrophe to our Prince that must have caused a storm on Mount
Parnassus. Gaius was a Fountain of Knowledge! The eyes of Gaius glowed with
Divine Light! When the lips of Gaius moved, Wisdom flowed and Justice smiled! .
. . Precious child,' went on Marcellus, taking her hand, 'I felt my tragic
mishap coming on, not unlike an unbeatable sneeze. I suddenly burst out
laughing! No--I do not mean that I chuckled furtively into my hands: I threw
back my head and roared! Howled! Long, lusty yells of insane laughter!'
Reliving the experience, Marcellus went off again into an abandon of
undisciplined mirth. 'Believe me--I woke everybody up--but Gaius.'

'Marcellus!'

Suddenly sobered by the tone of alarm in his sister's voice, he looked
into her pale, unsmiling face.

'What is it, Lucia?' he demanded. 'Are you ill?'

'I'm--afraid!' she whispered, weakly.

He put his arm about her and she pressed her forehead against his
shoulder.

'There, there!' he murmured. 'We've nothing to fear, Lucia. I was
foolish to have upset you. I thought you would be amused. Gaius will be angry,
of course, when he learns of it; but he will not venture to punish the son of
Marcus Lucan Gallio.'

'But--you see--' stammered Lucia, 'it was only yesterday that Father
openly criticized him in the Senate. Had you not heard?'

'Of course; but the Pater's strong enough to take care of himself,'
declared Marcellus, almost too confidently to be convincing. There was a
considerable pause before his sister spoke. He felt her body trembling.

'If it were just that one thing,' she said, slowly, 'perhaps it might be
overlooked. But--now you have offended him. And he was already angry at me.'

'You!' Marcellus took her by the shoulders and stared into her worried
eyes. 'And why should Gaius be angry at you?'

'Do you remember, last summer, when Diana and her mother and I were
guests at the Palace on Capri--and Gaius came to visit the Emperor?'

'Well? Go on!' demanded Marcellus. 'What of it? What did he say? What
did he do?'

'He tried to make love to me.'

'That loathsome beast!' roared Marcellus, leaping to his feet. 'I'll
tear his dirty tongue out! I'll gouge his eyes out with my thumbs! Why haven't
you told me this before?'

'You have given the reason,' said Lucia, dejectedly. 'I was afraid of
the tongue-tearing--and eye-gouging. Had my brother been a puny, timid man, I
might have told him at once. But my brother is strong and brave--and reckless.
Now that I have told him, he will kill Gaius; and my brother, whom I so dearly
love, will be put to death, and my father, too, I suppose. And my mother will
be banished or imprisoned, and--'

'What did Mother think about this?' broke in Marcellus.

'I did not tell her.'

'Why not? You should have done so--instantly!'

'Then she would have told Father. That would have been as dangerous as
telling my brother.'

'You should have told the Emperor!' spluttered Marcellus. 'Tiberius is
no monument to virtue, but he would have done something about that! He's not
sovery fond of Gaius.'

'Don't be foolish! That half-crazy old man? He would probably have gone
into one of his towering tantrums, and scolded Gaius in the presence of
everybody; and then he would have cooled off and forgotten all about it. But
Gaius wouldn't have forgotten! No--I decided to ignore it. Nobody knows--but
Diana.'