Chapter 17

Vergilius had thought wisely of his temptation. Fate rules them only
who are too weak to rule themselves, and the great leash of fate is the
power of evil women. It was now to hasten the current of history in
the old capital.

Salome sat with Manius in the great picture-room of her mother's
palace. Guests had left the banquet-hall and gone to their homes. It
was near the middle hour of the night and Herod's daughter was alone
with the young assessor of Augustus.

"You shall choose," said she, "between the daughter and the son of
Herod. My brother hates me, and I fear him. When he is king, what,
think you, would happen to the husband of Salome, and what to her? I
should have to train my tongue to praise him and my knees to bend. I
should need to bow my head for fear of losing it. Know you not of
Alexander and Aristobulus and the dear, beloved Mariamne--how they
died? You--poor fool!--you would be lucky if he made you master of the
stables!"

"But he has promised--"

"Promised! If you care to live a day after he is king remind him not
of his promises."

"Think you Antipater would dare to take my life? I am an officer of
Augustus."

"Oh, beautiful boy!" she laughed. "He would be no toy of Caesar. He
dreams of conquest. He will gather an army in Judea, Parthia, and
Arabia. He will attack Caesar, and Caesar is growing old. Do you not
know it is long since Actium?"

Alarm had risen to the eyes of the young Roman, his lips were now
trembling. "What is your plan?" he whispered.

"Betray the council," said she. "Tell the king and write to Caesar
about it. So you will prove your faithfulness and devotion. Loving
Caesar, you have been a spy self-appointed. Antipater shall be put to
death, and we--we shall have honor and glory and, maybe, a palace of
many towers."

She put her arms about his neck and gave him a look whose meaning he
understood.

"By all the gods! you are worthy to be the wife as well as the daughter
of a king," he whispered, his cheeks red with enthusiasm. "But they
will think me a poor spy if I give not the names of the conspirators,
and how may I?"

"But the God-fearing fool, Vergilius--you know he is of them?"

"I am sure--I heard his voice, but I have not seen him."

"You shall see him," said she, with rising fury in her eyes; "and I
shall see him"--she paused, her hands clinched, her tongue sorting hot
words--"melting in fire," she added, fiercely. She clapped her hands;
she leaned forward, her body shaking with a silent, horrible laughter
of the spirit.