A Friend of Caesar | Page 3

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. Chlo?'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] P?nula.
[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 Chlo? whispered to La?s: "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 off those chains. Tell the wretches they are to remain unshackled only so long as they behave. Give them three skins to-night from which to drink their master's health. Drive on, Cappadox!"
[12] Slave household.
And before the fettered slaves could comprehend their release from confinement, and break out into a chorus of barbarous and uncouth thanksgivings and blessings, the carriage had vanished from sight down the turn of the road.
II
Who was Quintus Livius Drusus? Doubtless he would have felt highly insulted if his family history had not been fairly well known to every respectable