A Friend of Caesar | Page 3

he
be always whipping like Mamercus?"
"He was not in charge of the estate," replied Laïs, the older woman,
"when he went away to study at Athens[3] a few years ago. But he was
always kind as a lad. Cappadox, his old body-servant, worshipped him.
I hope he will take the charge of the farm out of the steward's hands."
[3] A few years at the philosophy schools of that famous city were
almost as common to Roman students and men of culture as "studying
in Germany" to their American successors.
"Here he comes!" cried Hasdrubal. "I can see him in the nearest
carriage." And then all four broke out with their salutation, "Salve!
Salve, Domine!"[4] "Good health to your lordship!"

[4] Master, "Lord" of slaves and freedmen.
A little way behind the outriders rolled a comfortable, four-wheeled,
covered carriage,[5] ornamented with handsome embossed plate-work
of bronze. Two sleek, jet-black steeds were whirling it swiftly onward.
Behind, a couple of equally speedy grey mules were drawing an open
wagon loaded with baggage, and containing two smart-looking
slave-boys. But all four persons at the treadmill had fixed their eyes on
the other conveyance. Besides a sturdy driver, whose ponderous hands
seemed too powerful to handle the fine leather reins, there were sitting
within an elderly, decently dressed man, and at his side another much
younger. The former personage was Pausanias, the freedman and
travelling companion[6] of his friend and patron, Quintus Livius
Drusus, the "Master Drusus" of whom the slaves had been speaking.
Chloë's sharp eyes scanned her strange owner very keenly, and the
impression he created was not in the least unfavourable. Drusus was
apparently of about two and twenty. As he was sitting, he appeared a
trifle short in stature, with a thick frame, solid shoulders, long arms,
and large hands. His face was distinctively Roman. The features were a
little irregular, though not to an unpleasant extent. The profile was
aquiline. His eyes were brown and piercing, turning perpetually this
way and that, to grasp every detail of the scene around. His dark,
reddish hair was clipped close, and his chin was smooth shaven and
decidedly firm--stern, even, the face might have been called, except for
the relief afforded by a delicately curved mouth--not weak, but affable
and ingenuous. Drusus wore a dark travelling cloak,[7] and from
underneath it peeped his tunic, with its stripe of narrow purple--the
badge of the Roman equestrian order.[8] On his finger was another
emblem of nobility--a large, plain, gold ring, conspicuous among
several other rings with costly settings.
[5] Rheda.
[6] Most wealthy Romans had such a major domo, whose position was
often one of honour and trust.
[7] Pænula.

[8] The second order of the Roman nobility.
"Salve! Salve, Domine!" cried the slaves a second time, as the carriage
drew near. The young master pushed back the blue woollen curtains in
order to gain a better view, then motioned to the driver to stop.
"Are you slaves of mine?" was his question. The tone was interested
and kindly, and Mago saluted profoundly, and replied:--
"We are the slaves of the most noble Quintus Livius Drusus, who owns
this estate."
"I am he," replied the young man, smiling. "The day is hot. It grows
late. You have toiled enough. Go you all and rest. Here, Pausanias, give
them each a philippus,[9] with which to remember my home-coming!"
[9] A Greek gold piece worth about $3.60 at the time of the story. At
this time Rome coined little gold.
"Eu! Eu! Io![10] Domine!" cried the slaves, giving vent to their delight.
And Chloë whispered to Laïs: "You were right. The new master will be
kind. There will not be so many whippings."
[10] Good! Good! Hurrah!
But while Pausanias was fumbling in the money-bags, a new instance
of the generosity of Drusus was presented. Down a by-path in the field
filed a sorrowful company; a long row of slaves in fetters, bound
together by a band and chain round the waist of each. They were a
disreputable enough gang of unkempt, unshaven, half-clothed wretches:
Gauls and Germans with fair hair and giant physiques; dark-haired
Syrians; black-skinned Africans,--all panting and groaning, clanking
their chains, and cursing softly at the two sullen overseers, who, with
heavy-loaded whips, were literally driving them down into the road.
Again Drusus spoke.
"Whose slaves are these? Mine?"

"They are your lordship's," said the foremost overseer, who had just
recognized his newly come employer.
"Why are they in chains?" asked Drusus.
"Mamercus found them refractory," replied the guard, "and ordered
them to be kept in the underground prison,[11] and to work in the chain
gang."
[11] Ergastulum.
The young man made a motion of disgust.
"Bah!" he remarked, "the whole familia[12] will be in fetters if
Mamercus has his way much longer. Knock