"And if I were to aim an arrow at you," said the dwarf, quickly, "I'm sure you'd have a pain in yours."

"My dear," said the gentle-mannered emperor, when the laughter had died away, "I think we shall now give him the crown of folly and let him go."

"Between the greatest and the least of Romans," said his daughter, rising and pointing at her father and then at the dwarf, "I am lost in mediocrity."

A slave took the little creature in his arms and bore him away as if he had been a pet dog.

"Tell me, young men," said the emperor, "have you no lines to read us--you that have youth and beauty and sweethearts? How is it with you, good Vergilius?"

The young man shook his head. "No," said he; "I have youth and a sweetheart, but not the gift of poesy."

"No lines! What are we coming to in this Rome of ours? Are there no more poets? My dear friends, tell me, in the baths or the forum or the theatre, or wherever the people congregate, do you hear of no youth that has the divine gift of song?"

He paused for a little, but there was no reply.

"Then Rome is in evil days," said the great father, sadly.

"Why?" It was the question of Gracus.

"Why, young man? Because in every land there should be those who can cherish the fear of the G.o.ds and make honor beautiful and love sacred and valor a thing of imperishable fame. I a.s.sure you, good people, one poet is better," he paused, thoughtfully--"than ten thousand soldiers,"

he added. "Who will bring me a poet?"

The G.o.ds are indeed helpless, thought Vergilius. They must have poets to do their work for them? But he said nothing.

"The streets are full of poets," said Gracus.

"Those old men with long beards and stilted rubbish!" said Augustus, "with tragedies that slay the hero and the hearer! Bring me a poet, and, remember, I shall honor him above all men. Once I invited Horace to dine with me, and got no answer. He was a proud man"--this with a merry smile. "Again I invited him, and then he deigned to write me a sentence, merely, and said: 'Thanks, I am happy out here on my farm.'

I did not know what to do, but I wrote a letter and said to the great man: 'You may not desire my friendship, but that is no reason for my failing to value yours.' I am proud to say that he was my friend ever after. But I weary you."

A female slave, thickly veiled, stood behind him. He made a signal and she quickly put in his hand a little box of ivory, finely wrought.

"I have here," said the great father, "nine disks of wax. You see they are very small, but so they shall serve my purpose the better. Will each of you take one and retire from the table and write upon it the thing he most desires? Now, my dear friends, brevity is ever as the point of the lance. Wit is blunt and Truth half armed without it. I lay a test upon you."

All retired quickly, and, soon returning, dropped their wishes in the box. The playful emperor closed and shook it and withdrew a disk.

"I find here the word 'preference,'" said he, and all observed that his keen eyes were calmly measuring the prince Antipater. "It is a poor word, and does you little honor, my young friend. In mere preference there is no merit. Here is another, and it says 'more wine.' Keep his goblet full," he added, pointing to that of the senator, as all laughed. "Here is one says 'rest.' Have patience, my good daughter, I shall soon be done talking. Another has on it the words 'your health'--a charming compliment, dear Lady Lucia. 'Courage,' 'wisdom,'

'success,'" he added, reading from the tablets. "Naturally, and who, indeed, does not desire those things? Here is one that says 'help'--a great word, upon my soul! He that prays for help and not for favor, if he do his best, may have many good things--even 'courage,' 'wisdom,'

'success.' Keep at work and you shall have my help, Appius, and, I doubt not, that of the G.o.ds also. Here is one--I like it best of all--it is that of the modest young Vergilius. He would have a priceless thing. And do you," he inquired, turning to the young knight, "desire this above all things? Think; there is the distinction of place and power and honor--the ring of a legate would become you well!"

"But, above all," said Vergilius, "I desire that I have written."

"Beautiful boy!" said the cunning emperor. "'Tis so great a prize, give me another test of your quality. With one word you ask for one thing. To try your wit, I give you a theme so small it is next to naught--the number one. Tell us, and briefly as you may, what is in it."

The young man rose and bowed low. "One is in all numbers," said he, "and unless all numbers are as one they are nothing. I desire one mistress for my heart, one purpose for my conduct, and one great master for my country."

"The G.o.ds grant them!" said Augustus, leading the applause.

"And now I shall proclaim the word he has written. It is 'Arria,' and stands, I know well, for the sister of Appius."

He turned quickly to the still and silent figure of the slave behind him. All eyes were now watching her.

"Are you content?" he inquired.

Gray veil and robe fell away, revealing the beautiful sister of Appius.

Vergilius went quickly to her side.

"I declare them for each other!" said the emperor, as all rose and gathered around the two. He took the boy's hand. "Come to me at ten to-morrow," he added.

"But, O father of Rome!" said Arria, looking up at the great man, "how long shall you detain him?"

"Give me half an hour, you love-sick maiden," said Augustus. "He shall be at your palace in good time."

"Come at the middle hour," said the Lady Lucia, her hand upon the arm of Vergilius.

"The G.o.ds give you sleep," said the great father, as he bade them good-night.

Beneath the laurels on their way to the gate, Gracus, who rode with Antipater, said:

"And what of your oath, son of Herod?"

"But they are not yet married," the other answered, malevolently.

"Vergilius! Bah! He is the son of a praetor and I am the son of a king. Curse the old fox! He never spoke to me after greetings, and once when I glanced up at him I thought his keen eyes were looking through me.

"Those eyes! Jupiter!" said Gracus, "they drop a plummet into one."

CHAPTER 6

Now there were few barriers between the emperor and the people. He went to work in his study at an early hour and gave a patient hearing to any but foolish men. This morning he had been reading a long address from the legate of Syria. He had a way of dividing his thought between reading and small affairs of the state. His legate recited all he had been able to learn of the new king they were now expecting in Judea. He told also of a plot which had baffled all his efforts and which aimed to take the life of Herod and crown the king of prophecy and divine power.

"We must have a spy of n.o.ble blood and bearing, of unswerving fidelity and honor, and with some knowledge of the religion of Judea," said the legate. "Of course, you will not be able to find him, for where in all the world, save yourself, good father, is there such a man?"

Augustus dropped the sheet of vellum and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"How about this young Vergilius--the handsome, clever, woman-loving Vergilius?" he thought. Then for a moment the cunning emperor laughed silently.

Ever since he began to read the letter he had been conversing with his daughter Julia.

"If you can propose a better candidate for the girl, I--" he paused, looking intently at the letter--"I shall consider him," he added, presently.

"She is beautiful," his daughter whispered. "I know one who will give to the state many thousand aurei."

"No need of hurry. The young Vergilius will give what is better than money, and then--"

The emperor paused again.