Under which king, Bezonian? Speak, or die!
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

On that same night, and nearly at the same hour wherein the messenger of Aulus Fulvius arrived at the Latin villa, there was a splendid banquet given in a house near the forum.

It was the house of Decius Brutus, unworthy bearer of a time-honored name, the husband of the infamous Sempronia.

At an earlier hour of the evening, a great crowd had been gathered round the doors, eager to gaze on the ambassadors of the Highland Gauls, who, their mission to Rome ended unsuccessfully, feasted there for the last time previous to their departure.

As it grew dark, however, tired of waiting in the hope of seeing the plaided warriors depart, the throng had dispersed, and with exception of the city watches and the cohorts, which from hour to hour perambulated them, the streets were unusually silent, and almost deserted.

There was no glare of lights from the windows of Brutus' house, as there would be in these days, and in modern mansions, to indicate the scene of festivity; for it was in the inmost chamber, of the most secluded suite of apartments, that the boards had been spread for the comissatio, or nocturnal revel.

The caena, or dinner, had been partaken by all the guests previous to their arrival at their entertainer's, and the tables were laid only with light dainties and provocatives to thirst, such as salted meats and fishes, the roe of the sturgeon highly seasoned, with herbs and fruits, and pastry and confections, of all kinds.

Rich urns, with heaters, containing hot spiced wines, prepared with honey, smoked on the boards of costly citrean wood, intermixed with crystal vases filled with the rarest vintages of the Falernian hills, cooled and diluted with snow-water.

And around the circular tables, on the tapestried couches, reclined the banqueters of both sexes, quaffing the rich wines to strange toasts, jesting, and laughing wildly, singing at times themselves as the myrtle branch and the lute went round, at times listening to the licentious chaunts of the unveiled and almost unrobed dancing girls, or the obscene and scurrilous buffoonery of the mimes and clowns, who played so conspicuous a part in the Roman entertainments of a later period.

Among these banqueters there was not a single person not privy to the conspiracy, and few who have not been introduced already to the acquaintance of the reader, but among these few was Sempronia Sempronia, who could be all things, at all times, and to all persons who with all the softness and grace and beauty of the most feminine of her sex, possessed all the daring, energy, vigor, wisdom of the bravest and most intriguing man accomplished to the utmost in all the liberal arts, a poetess and minstrel unrivalled by professional performers, a dancer more finished and voluptuous than beseemed a Roman matron, a scholar in both tongues, the Greek as well as her own, and priding herself on her ability to charm the gravest and most learned sages by the modesty of her bearing and the wealth of her intellect, as easily as the most profligate debauchees by her facetious levity, her loose wit, and her abandonment of all restraint to the wildest license.

On this evening she had strained every nerve to fascinate, to dazzle, to astonish.

She had danced as a bacchanal, with her luxuriant hair dishevelled beneath a crown of vine leaves, with her bright shoulders and superb bust displayed at every motion by the displacement of the panther's skin, which alone covered them, timing her graceful steps to the clang of the silver cymbals which she waved and clashed with her bare arms above her stately head, and showing off the beauties of her form in attitudes more classically graceful, more studiously indelicate, than the most reckless figurante of our days.

She had sung every species of melody and rythm, from the wildest dithyrambic to the severest and most grave alcaic; she had struck the lute, calling forth notes such as might have performed the miracles attributed to Orpheus and Amphion.

She had exerted her unrivalled learning so far as to discourse eloquently in the uncouth and almost unknown tongues of Germany and Gaul.

For she had Gaulish hearers, Gaulish admirers, whom, whether from mere female vanity, whether from the awakening of some strange unbridled passion, or whether from some deeper cause, she was bent on delighting.

For mixed in brilliant contrast with the violet and flower enwoven tunics, with the myrtle-crowned perfumed love-locks of the Roman feasters, were seen the gay and many-chequered plaids, the jewelled weapons, and loose lion-like tresses of the Gallic Highlanders, and the wild blue eyes, sharp and clear as the untamed falcon's, gazing in wonder or glancing in childlike simplicity at the strange scenes and gorgeous luxuries which amazed all their senses.

The tall and powerful young chief, who had on several occasions attracted the notice of Arvina, and whom he had tracked but a few days before into this very house, reclined on the same couch with its accomplished mistress, and it was on him that her sweetest smiles, her most speaking glances were levelled, for him that her charms were displayed so unreservedly and boldly.

And the eyes of the young Gaul flashed at times a strange fire, but it was difficult to tell, if it were indignation or desire that kindled that sharp flame and his cheek burned with a hectic and unwonted hue, but whether it was the hue of shame or passion, what eye could determine.

One thing alone was evident, that he encouraged her in her wild licence, and affected, if he did not feel, the most decided admiration for her beauty.

His hand had toyed with hers, his fingers had strayed through the mazes of her superb raven ringlets, his lip had pressed hers unrebuked, and his ear had drunk in long murmuring low-breathed sighs, and whispers unheard by any other.

Her Roman lovers, in other words two-thirds of those present, for she was no chary dame, looked at each other, some with a sneering smile, some with a shrewd and knowing glance, and some with ill-dissembled jealousy, but not one of them all, so admirable was her dissimulation if that may be called admirable, which is most odious could satisfy himself, whether she was indeed captivated by the robust and manly beauty of the young barbarian, or whether it was merely a piece of consummate acting, the more to attach him to their cause.

It might have been observed had the quick eye of Catiline been there, prompt to read human hearts as if they were written books that the older envoys looked with suspicious and uneasy glances, at the demeanor of their young associate, that they consulted one another from time to time with grave and searching eyes, and that once or twice, when Sempronia, who alone of those present understood their language, was at a distance, they uttered a few words in Gaelic, not in the most agreeable or happiest accent.

Wilder and wilder waxed the revelry, and now the slaves withdrew, and breaking off into pairs or groups, the guests dispersed themselves among the péristyles, dimly illuminated with many twinkling lamps, and shrubberies of myrtle and laurestinus which adorned the courts and gardens of the proud mansions.

Some to plot deeds of private revenge, private cruelty some to arrange their schemes of public insurrection some to dally in secret corners with the fair patricians some to drain mightier draughts than they had yet partaken, some to gamble for desperate stakes, all to drown care and the anguish of conscious guilt, in the fierce pleasure of excitement.

Apart from the rest, stood two of the elder Gauls, in deep and eager conference one the white-headed chief, and leader of the embassy, the other a stately and noble-looking man of some forty-five or fifty years.

They were watching their comrade, who had just stolen away, with one arm twined about the fair Sempronia's waist, and her hand clasped in his, through the inner peristyle, into the women's chambers.

“Feargus, I doubt him,” said the old man in a low guarded whisper. “I doubt him very sorely. These Roman harlots are made to bewitch any man, much more us Gael, whose souls kindle at a spark!”

“It is true, Phadraig,” answered the other, still speaking in their own tongue. “Saw ever any man such infamy? And these these dogs, and goats, call us barbarians! Us, by the Spirit of Thunder! who would die fifty deaths every hour, ere we would see our matrons, nay! but our matrons' basest slaves, demean themselves as these patricians! Base, carnal, bloody-minded beasts are they and yet forsooth they boast themselves the masters of the world.”

“Alas! that it should be so, Feargus,” answered the other. “But so it is, that they are masters, and shall be masters yet awhile, but not long. I have heard, I have seen among the mist of our water-falls, the avalanches of our hills, the voices and the signs of Rome's coming ruin, but not yet. Therefore it is that I counselled peace.”

I know that thou art Taishatr, the great seer of our people, replied the other with an expression of deep awe on his features Shall Rome indeed so perish!”

“She shall, Feargus. Her sons shall forget the use of the blade, her daughters of the distaff for heroes and warriors she shall bring forth pipers and fiddlers, pandars and posturers; for heroines and matrons, songstresses, dancing girls, and harlots. The beginning thou seest now, the end cometh not in ages.”

“And our people, Phadraig, our northern races

“Shall govern and despise them! our arms shall carry devastation into regions of which their Consuls never heard, and under Gaelic eagles; our men shall wield thunder louder and deadlier, than the bolts of Roman GODS. I have said, Feargus. It shall be, but not yet; nor shall our eyes behold it; but it shall soothe us yet, in these days of our country's desolation, to know how great she shall be hereafter, and these how less than little the very name of Roman synonimous with slavery and degradation!”

There was a long pause, during which neither of the chieftains spoke, the one musing over the strange visions, which are phenomena by no means unusual to mountaineers, in all ages; the other dreaming of future glory to his race, and aroused by the predictions of the seer, to an ecstacy, as it were, of expectant triumph.

“Enough of this said the old man, at length. “As I said but now, I doubt Eachin sorely.”

“If he prove false, I will stab him to the heart, with my own hand, though he be my father's brother's grandson, and the best warrior of our tribe; but no, no, Phadraig, the boy is young, and his blood is hot and fiery; and the charms of that witch might well move a colder spirit but he is true as steel, and wise and wary for one so young. He may sun himself in her smiles, or revel on her lips, but trust me, Eachin of the iron hand, will never betray council.”

“Keep your eye on him, nevertheless, Feargus,” said the other, “and, as you said but now, kill him at once, if you perceive him false.”

Ha! what! noble Patricius? cried Lentulus, coming up to them suddenly, and addressing the old chief by his latinized name what is this that thou arguest so sagely, in thy sonorous and male tongue.”

“The might and majesty of Rome,” answered the old man quietly, “and our people's misery and degradation.”

“Nay! nay! chief, be not downhearted. Look upward now, after dark night comes brilliant morning,” said the Roman. “Your people shall rise ere long, to power and glory and dominion.”

“So I told Feargus.”

“Ha! the brave Ferragus! and doth he not credit your wisdom's prophecy.”

“I put all faith in Rome's gratitude, in Catiline's valor and justice.”

“Aye! when we once have put down this faction, we will do justice to our friends.”

“And we are of the number!”

“Surely, the twenty thousand horse, which you have promised us, are twenty thousand pledges of your friendship, as many claims on our favor.”

“See, here comes Eachin,” said the old man; “and time wears onward, it is nigh midnight. We must away to our lodgings. Our train awaits us, and we but tarry for your envoy and the letters.”

Titus Volturcius! I will go fetch him hither. He hath our letters sealed and ready. He is but draining a last cup, with our brave Cethegus. I will go fetch him. And, with the words, he turned away, gathering his toga in superb draperies about his stately person, and traversing the corridor with proud and measured strides, and as he went, muttered through his teeth The fool barbarians! As if we would give them anything but chains and scourges! The poor benighted idiots!”

Ho, Eachin, where left you our fair hostess? asked Feargus in Latin methinks you are smitten somewhat with her beauty!”

“She is very beautiful!” said the old chieftain gravely.

“Beautiful! Feargus! Phadraig! beautiful, did ye say?” and the youth gazed at them in wonder, “That vile sensual, soulless harlot! she beautiful! Then virtue must be base indeed, and honor shameful!” he cried, with noble indignation, in his own Gaëlic tongue, his eyes flashing, and his cheek burning crimson.

“Why, if you held her then so cheaply, have you so much affected her society?”

“Oh! you suspect me, Feargus. But it needs not. The barbarian hath some shrewdness, and some honesty. Sempronia too, suspected us, and would have won my secret from me, had I indeed a secret, by sweet words and sweeter kisses.”

“And thou

“Gave kiss for kiss, with interest; and soft word for soft word. I have sighed as if I were any Roman but no secret, Feargus; Phadraig, no secret. Do you doubt me?”

“Not I, boy,” answered the warrior. “Your father was my cousin, and I think you are not a bastard.”

“I think not either. But see, here come these noble Romans!”

“It is their envoy with the letters for their leader. We shall be dismissed now, from this haunt of thieves and harlots!”

“And laughed at, when dismissed, for fools and barbarians!”

“One never knows who is the fool, till the game is lost.”

“Nor who is laughed at 'till it is won!”

“Here is our Titus, my good friends,” said Lentulus, coming forward, leading along with him a slightly-made but well-formed and active-looking man, with a downcast yet roving eye, and a sneering lip, as if he were one who believing nothing, deserved not to be believed in anything himself. “He hath the letters, and credentials secured on his person. On his introduction, our Catiline shall know you as true friends, and as such receive and reward you!”

“Titus Volturcius, is welcome. We tarried but for him, we will now take our leaves, with thanks for your gracious courtesies.”

A trifle, a mere trifle, said Sempronia, who had that moment returned We only desired to teach you how we Romans live in our homes daily.”

“A very pleasant lesson, ha! my young friend said Lentulus to Eachin; and then he said out to Cethegus, in Greek, “I am compelled to call the Highland bull my friend, for his accursed name would break the jaws of any Roman there is no twisting it into Latin!”

“Hush! he will hear you, Lentulus,” said the other. “I believe the brutes hear with their eyes, and understand through their finger-ends,” and he too used the same language; yet, strange to say, it would have seemed as if the young man did in some sort comprehend his words, for his cheek turned fiery red, and he bit his lip, and played nervously with the hilt of the claymore.

“Thou will not forget the lesson!” whispered Sempronia.

“Never!” replied the Highlander. “Never while one red drop runs in these veins. And the last drop in them will I shed gladly, to teach these noble Romans how grateful a barbarian can be, poor though he be and half savage, for being thus instructed in Roman hospitality and Roman virtue! Farewell, ye noble Senators, farewell most beautiful and noble matron!”

And with deep salutations, half dignified, half awkward, the Gauls strode away, into the quiet and moon-lighted streets, strange contrast to the glare and riot of those patrician halls and polluted chambers.

“A singular speech that!” said Cethegus musing. “It sounded much as if it might bear a double meaning! could it be irony and cover treason?”

“Irony in a stupid Gaul! thou art mad, Cethegus, to think of it!” said Autronius with a sneer.

“I should as soon look for wit in an elephant,” said Longinus Cassius.

“Or I for love in a cold lizard!” cried Sempronia, laughing.

“You found some love in the barbarian, I think, my Sempronia?” exclaimed Cethegus.

“More warmth than wit, I assure you,” she replied still laughing. “I acted my part with him rarely. If he were inclined once to play us false, he is bound to us now by chains

“Of roses, fair one?”

“Never mind. If he break them, call me

“Chaste? Sempronia enquired Caeparius, interrupting her.

“Audacious!” she answered with an affected frown, amid the laugh which followed the retort.

“What do you think of it, my Lentulus?” asked Cethegus, who although he had jested with the others, did not by any means appear satisfied in his mind, or convinced of the good faith of the Highlanders.

“That it is two hours now past midnight,” answered Lentulus yawning, “and that I am amazing sleepy. I was not in bed till the third watch last night, writing those letters, ill luck to them. That is what I think, Cethegus. And that I am going to bed now, to trouble myself about the matter no more, until the Saturnalia.”

And so that company broke up, never to meet again, on this side Hades.

Not long thereafter the Gauls, having reached their lodgings at the house of their patron Fabius Sanga, where everything had been prepared already for their departure, mounted their horses, and set forth on their way homeward, accompanied by a long train of armed followers; Titus Volturcius riding in the first rank, between the principal chiefs of the party.

The moon had risen; and the night was almost as clear as day, for a slight touch of frost had banished all the vapors from the sky, and the stars sparkled with unusual brilliancy.

Although it was clear and keen, however, the night was by no means cold, as it would have been under the like circumstances in our more northern climes; and the gardens in the suburbs of the city with their numerous clumps of stone-pine, and thickets of arbutus and laurestinus, looked rich and gay with their polished green foliage, long after the deciduous trees had dropped their sere leaves on the steamy earth.

No sounds came to the ears of the travellers, as they rode at that dead hour of night through the deserted streets; the whole of the vast city appeared to be hushed in deep slumber, soon, Caius Volturcius boasted as they rode along, to burst like a volcano into the din and glare of mighty conflagration.

They met not a single individual, as they threaded the broad suburra with their long train of slaves and led-horses; not one as they passed through the gorge between the Viminal and Quirinal hills, nor as they scaled the summit of the latter eminence, and reached the city walls, where they overlooked Sallust's gardens in the valley, and on the opposite slope, the perfumed hill of flowers.

A sleepy sentinel unbarred the gate for the ambassadors, while four or five of his comrades sat dozing in their armor around a stove, in the centre of the little guard-house, or replenishing their horn cups, at short intervals, from an urn of hot wine, which hissed and simmered on the hearth.

“Excellent guard they keep!” said Volturcius sneeringly, “right trusty discipline! of much avail would such watchers be, were Catiline without the walls, with ten thousand men, of Sylla's veterans.”

“And is your Catiline so great a captain?” asked the Highlander.

“The best in Rome, since Sylla is no more! He learned the art of war under that grand, that consummate soldier! He was scarce second to him in his life time!”

“Why, then, hath Rome found no service for him?” asked the Gaul. “If he, as you say, is so valiant and so skillful, why hath he not commanded in the east, in place of Pompey, or Lucullus?”

“Jealousy is the bane of Rome! jealousy and corruption! Catiline will not pander to the pride of the insolent patricians, nor buy of them employments or honors with his gold.”

“And is he free from this corruption?”

“No man on earth of more tried integrity! While all of Rome beside is venal, his hand alone is conscious of no bribe, his heart alone incorruptible!”

“Thou must be a true friend of his; all men speak not so highly of this Catiline.”

“Some men lie! touching him specially, they lie!”

“By the Gods! I believe so!” answered the old Gaul, with calm irony.

“By Mars! and Apollo! they lie foully!”

“I think I have heard one, at least, do so.”

“Thou shalt hear hundreds, if thou listen to them.”

“So many?”

“Aye! by the Gods! most of the by your head! Patricius, that was a man, I think; armed too; who looked forth from behind yon buttress of the bridge.”

“No! no! Volturcius, 'twas but the shadow of yon pine tree, waving athwart the moonlight. I marked it long since,” answered the wily Gaul. “Proceed, I pray you most of the what, wert thou about to say?”

But, by this time, the speakers had advanced to the centre of the long Mulvian bridge, a magnificent stone structure crossing the broad and sluggish Tiber, two miles below the city; and giving access to the far-famed Flaminian way.

Their train, following closely after them, had all entered into the defile, the last of them having already passed the abutment nearest to Rome, when a loud shout arose from either side the bridge; and from the thickets and gardens at each extremity forth rushed a band of stout youths armed with casques and cuirasses of bronze, with the oblong shields and Spanish stabbing swords of the legionaries.

Each band was led by a Praetor, Lucius Valerius Flaccus commanding at the end next Rome, and Caius Pomptinus, on the Emilian way, and each fell into accurate and beautiful array, barring the outlets of the bridge with a triple file of bright blades and sturdy bucklers.

Nor was this all; for a little party was pushed forward on each flank, with bows and javelins, ready to enfilade the narrow pass with cross shot of their missiles, in case any attempt should be made to force a passage. And at the end, moreover, of the bridge toward Etruria and the camp of Catiline, at which such an attempt was most likely to occur, the glittering helmets and crimson horsehair crests of a troop of cavalry were seen glancing in the moonbeams, as they wheeled into line behind the footmen, ready to charge at once should the infantry be broken.

“Stand! stand!” cried the soldiery at each end. “Stand and surrender!”

But the younger men of the Gauls, unsheathing their claymores, set up their terrible slogan, or Celtic battle cry; and, plunging their spurs into the sides of their fiery horses came thundering across the bridge with a charge that would probably have trodden the Praetor's infantry under foot, had not the old chief, whom the Romans called Patricius, and Ferragus reined their steeds suddenly across the way, calling upon their men to halt and be steady.

But Volturcius, knowing too well the consequence of being taken, dashed forward with his sword drawn; and made a desperate attempt to cut his way through the infantry, striking down two or three, slashing and stabbing to the right and left, displaying singular skill in the use of his weapon, and extreme personal intrepidity.

“Treason! treason, my friends!” he shouted. “Ho, Ferragus, Patricius, ho! Charge, charge, men, gallantly. They are but a handful!” and still he plied his blade, which was now crimson to the hilt, with fearful energy.

No! no! not so! cried the ambassadors lay down your arms! it is the praetor's train. Lay down your arms! all shall be well, if you resist not.”

And at the same time, “Yield thee! yield thee! Volturcius,” cried Pomptinus. “We are friends all; and would not hurt thee but have thee we must, and thy letters. Dost thou not know me, Titus?”

“Very well, Caius,” cried the other, still fighting desperately against a host; for the men were commanded not to kill, but to take him alive at all hazards. “I know thee very well; but I will not yield to thee! So take that, Praetor!” and, with the word, he dealt him a blow on his crest that brought him to his knee in a moment.

“He is a mad man!” cried a veteran legionary. “We must kill him!”

“Not for your lives,” shouted Pomptinus, and springing to his feet he plunged his sword home into his horse's chest, up to the very hilt; and then leaping on one side nimbly, as the animal fell headlong, being slain outright, he seized Volturcius by the shoulder, and pulled him down from the saddle.

But even at this disadvantage, the conspirator renewed the single combat with the praetor; until at length, assured by his repeated promises that his life should be spared, he yielded his sword to that officer, and adjuring him in the name of all the Gods! to protect him, gave himself up a prisoner, as if to avowed enemies.

Those of the Gauls, who had been ignorant, at first, what was in progress, perceiving now that the whole matter had been arranged with the concurrence of their chiefs, submitted quietly; and two or three of the praetor's people who had been wounded being accommodated with temporary litters made of bucklers and javelins with watch cloaks thrown over them, the whole party turned their horses' heads, and directed their march toward Rome.

And silence, amid which the gentle murmur of the river, and the sigh of the breeze were distinctly audible, succeeded to the clang of arms, and the shouts of the combatants, unheard for many a year, so near to the walls of the world's metropolis.