ACTÉ, page 11
The two fugitives then continued to swim in silence, making for the shore, while Anicetus, thinking his mission of death accomplished, rowed towards Bauli, where the Emperor was awaiting him. The sky was still unclouded and the sea had grown calm again; the distance however was so great from the spot where Agrippina and Acté had thrown themselves into the water to the shore which they hoped to reach, that after swimming for more than half an hour they found themselves still more than a mile from land. Agrippina had injured her shoulder in her fall; she felt her right arm becoming so numb that she seemed likely to have escaped a first danger only to fall into another even more terrible and more certain. Acté presently perceived that she was swimming only with great difficulty, and though she did not complain, she guessed by the heaving of Agrippina’s breast that she was in need of help. She crossed at once to her other side, took her arm within her own, gave her her shoulder to lean upon, and continued to advance, supporting the exhausted Agrippina, who vainly besought her to save herself and leave her to perish.
Meanwhile Nero had returned to the palace at Bauli, and, resuming the place at the banquet which he had temporarily quitted, had summoned fresh courtesans and dancers, had ordered the feast to proceed, and, having had his lyre brought to him, was singing of the siege of Troy. Occasionally, however, he would give a start, and suddenly a shudder ran through his veins and a cold sweat moistened his brow; for now he thought he heard his mother’s last cry, now it seemed to him that the spirit of Death, crossing that warm and perfumed atmosphere, touched his face with the tips of her icy wings. At last, after two hours of this feverish suspense, a slave entered, and, approaching Nero, whispered in his ear some words which nobody else heard, but which caused him to turn pale; dropping his lyre and tearing off his garland, the Emperor rushed at once from the banqueting-hall without telling anyone what had caused this sudden terror, and leaving the guests free to withdraw or to continue the orgy. But the Emperor’s alarm had been too visible, and his retreat too abrupt, for the courtiers not to have guessed that some terrible event had just taken place; accordingly, they all hastened to follow the example of their lord, and within a few minutes of his departure the apartment, lately so crowded with a noisy and animated assembly, was silent and empty as a violated grave.
Nero had retired to his chamber and had summoned Anicetus. The latter, on reaching port, had sent an account of his mission to the Emperor, who, certain of his loyalty, had entertained no doubt as to the truth of his story. The astonishment of Anicetus was therefore great when Nero, on seeing him enter, rushed towards him exclaiming:
“Why did you tell me that she was dead? there is a messenger below who has just come from her.”
“He must have come from hell, then,” answered Anicetus; “for I saw the deck fall in and the vessel sink; I heard a voice crying, ‘I am Agrippina, the mother of Caesar! ‘ — and I saw the oar rise and fall which broke the head of her who so imprudently called for help!”
“Well! you are mistaken; it was Acerronia who was killed, and my mother who was saved.”
“Who says so?”
“The freedman Agerinus.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No, not yet.”
“What does the divine Emperor intend to do?”
“Can I rely upon you?”
“My life is at Caesar’s disposal.”
“Well, then! go into that room, and when I call for help, come in quickly and arrest Agerinus, and say that you saw him lift a dagger against me.”
“Your wishes are my orders,” answered Anicetus, bowing and going into the adjoining room.
Nero, left alone, seized a looking-glass, and, seeing that his face looked haggard, concealed its paleness with some rouge; then, collecting his flowing locks and gathering up the folds of his toga as though about to appear upon the stage, he reclined in a studied attitude and waited for Agrippina’s messenger.
This messenger came to inform Nero that his mother was saved; he related to him the twofold accident which had happened to the trireme, all which account Nero listened to as though he were in ignorance of the facts; then the messenger added that the august Agrippina had been rescued by a boat at the very moment when, her strength failing her, she had nothing to hope for save from the help of the gods. This boat had taken her from the bay of Puteoli to the Lucrine Lake through the canal constructed by Claudius; from the shores of the lake she had been carried to her villa in her litter, and on her arrival there had sent to tell her son that the gods had taken her under their protection, and to beseech him, however great might be his wish to see her, to defer his visit, since she needed some interval of repose.
Nero heard him to the end, displaying alarm, surprise and joy as the several details of the story required; then, having ascertained all he wished to learn, namely the place to which his mother had betaken herself, immediately carrying out the plot which he had hastily formed, he threw a naked sword between the messenger’s legs, shouting at the same time for help. Anicetus sprang in at once from the adjoining room, seized Agrippina’s envoy, and picking up the sword lying at his feet before he had had time to deny the attempt with which he was charged, handed him over to the chief of the praetorians, who had rushed in with his guard at the sound of the Emperor’s voice, and dashed through the corridors of the palace, shouting out that Nero had just escaped being murdered by his mother’s orders.
While this was happening at Bauli, Agrippina had been rescued, as we have said, by a fisherman’s boat which was entering the harbour late at night; but, just before hailing this boat, not knowing whether the wrath of Nero would not pursue her to her villa on the Lucrine Lake, and unwilling to involve in her own destruction the girl to whom she owed her life, she had asked Acté if she had strength enough remaining to gain the shore, which was just becoming visible; marked by the dark line of the hills that stood up in outline, parting the sky from the sea. Acté, guessing the motive which was influencing Agrippina, had insisted on following her; but the latter had ordered her positively to leave her, promising that she would summon her in case there should be no cause for alarm. Acté had obeyed, and Agrippina, uttering a cry of distress, had hailed the boat, while Acté disappeared unseen, her fair, light form cleaving the surface of the bay, like a swan burying its head beneath the water.
As Agrippina approached, the shore seemed to her eyes and ears to become animated; she saw lights careering madly along the beach and the wind wafted sounds of which her uneasiness tried to discover the meaning. The cause of all this commotion was that Anicetus, on entering the harbour of Bauli, had spread the news of the shipwreck and the death of the Emperor’s mother, and that immediately her slaves, her clients, and her friends had assembled on the beach in the hope that she might reach the land alive, or that at least the sea would cast her body ashore. Accordingly, the moment a white sail was perceived through the darkness, the whole crowd rushed to the place where the boat would land, and when it was seen that Agrippina was in the vessel, all this mournful clamour was changed to shouts of joy; so that Caesar’s mother, doomed to death on the one side of the bay, landed on the other with all the acclamations and honours of a triumphal return, and was borne aloft in the arms of her servants and escorted by a whole population excited by this event and aroused from its slumber. In this fashion she entered the imperial villa, the doors of which were instantly closed behind her, but all the inhabitants of the shore, from Puteoli to Baiae, still remained on the spot, and, the curiosity of fresh arrivals adding fuel to the excitement of those who had accompanied Agrippina from the sea, fresh cries of joy and affection broke out, the people demanding to see her on whom the Senate, by order of the Emperor, had conferred the title of Augusta.
Agrippina, however, who had withdrawn to the deepest privacy of her apartments, far from surrendering herself to these transports was filled with greater terror by them, inasmuch as all popularity was reckoned a crime at the Court of Nero; all the more so when the object of this popularity was a person proscribed. Hardly had she reached her chamber, when she summoned her freedman Agerinus, the only man on whom she thought she could depend, and charged him to bear to Nero the message which we have seen him deliver. This first duty accomplished, she had thought of her injured arm, and after having it dressed, she dismissed all her women, and retired to bed, covering her head with the counterpane, harassed by terrible reflections, and listening to the clamour outside which became more deafening every moment. Then suddenly the thousand voices were hushed, the shouts subsided as if by magic; the lights of the torches which flickered against the window like the reflection of a fire disappeared; the night resumed its darkness and the silence its mystery. Agrippina felt a deadly terror pass through all her frame and a cold perspiration mount to her brow, for she divined that this crowd had not become silent, nor these lights been extinguished, without good reason. And presently was heard the tramp of an armed band entering the outer court, then the noise of steps growing more and more distinct resounded from corridor to corridor and from room to room.
Agrippina listened to these threatening sounds, leaning upon one elbow, breathless, but without stirring, for, having no hope of escape, she did not even dream of attempting to fly. Presently the door of her room was opened; upon which, summoning up all her courage, she turned her head, pale but determined, and saw at the entrance the freedman Anicetus, and behind him Herculeus the tetrarch, and Olaritus, centurion of Marines. At sight of Anicetus, whom she knew to be the confidant of Nero and frequently employed as his executioner, she realised that all was over, and, foregoing all complaint or entreaty, exclaimed:
“If you come as a messenger, tell my son that I have recovered from the shock of the accident; if you come as an executioner, perform your duty.”
The sole answer of Anicetus was to draw his sword and approach the bed, while the sole prayer of Agrippina, as with a sublime shamelessness she lifted the counterpane which covered her, was contained in these two words: “Feri ventrem” (“Pierce my womb!”).
The assassin obeyed, and Agrippina expired without another word save this implied imprecation on her body for having borne such a son.
Meanwhile, Acté, on leaving Agrippina, had continued to make for the shore; but, as she drew nearer, she had seen the gleam of the torches and heard the shouts; not knowing what was the meaning of these lights and noises, and feeling that she had still some strength left, she determined not to land until she had reached the further side of Puteoli. In order, therefore, to be still more concealed from observation, she had followed the bridge of Caligula, swimming in the dark shadow cast by it across the sea, clinging occasionally to the piles on which it was built in order to rest herself; but at about three hundred yards from the end of this bridge, seeing the gleam of a sentry’s helmet, she struck out once more for the open sea, though her heaving chest and tired arms warned her of the urgent need she had to gain the shore speedily. At last she perceived the shore, and just such a shore as suited her purpose, for it was low, dark, and deserted, although the light of the torches and the joyful cries proceeding from Baiae still reached her. Soon, however, both lights and sounds began to grow indistinct, and even the beach itself, which she had seen a moment before, now disappeared; for a mist covered her eyes and a roaring sound filled her ears, as though a rout of marine monsters were lashing the water with their fins; she would fain have cried out, but her mouth filled with water and a wave passed over her head. Acté felt that she was lost unless she summoned up all her strength; by a convulsive effort she raised herself half out of the water, and by this rapid movement gained time to fill her lungs with air. She now perceived with joy that the land of which she had got a glimpse was perceptibly nearer to her; she swam bravely on therefore, but soon all the symptoms of exhaustion seemed to seize on her once more, and confused thoughts began to jostle each other in her mind; she seemed to see once more in confused array all that she held dear, and her whole past life rose up before her eyes. She thought she could distinguish an old man holding out his arms with a gesture of entreaty from the shore, while some mysterious force paralysed her limbs and drew her back into the depths of the waves. Then it was the banquet all ablaze with light that dazzled her eyes, and its songs that resounded in her ears. Nero sat holding his lyre; his favourite applauded the indecent ballads, and the courtesans, whose lascivious dancing had shocked the girl’s modesty, entered the hall. Then she wanted to escape, as in fact she had escaped, but her feet were tied fast with garlands of flowers; however, at the end of the gallery leading to the banqueting-hall, she saw the same old man making gestures of appeal to her. A sort of halo round his head lit up his features amid the surrounding shadows. He beckoned her to come to him, and she knew that if she did so she would be saved. Presently all these lights went out and the sounds were hushed, and, feeling that she was sinking once more, she uttered a cry. Another cry seemed to answer her, but a second wave passed like a shroud over her head and she was on the point of losing all consciousness of existence; it seemed as though she were being carried off while asleep and rolled down the slope of a mountain, until on reaching the bottom, she dashed against a rock — she felt a dull agony like that which one suffers in a fainting fit, and then nothing but an icy sensation creeping about her heart and robbing her of all consciousness.
When she recovered her senses, it was still night, she found herself on the shore, wrapped in a large cloak, with a man on his knees beside her supporting her dripping and dishevelled head; she raised her eyes and looked at her preserver, and, strange to say thought that she recognised the old man whom she had seen when she was struggling in the sea. He had the same sweet, calm and venerable face, so that she seemed to be still continuing her dream.
“O, my father,” she murmured, “you called me to you and I have come — I am here — you have saved my life — tell me your name that I may bless it.”
“My name is Paul,” said the old man.
“And who are you?” continued the girl.
“An apostle of Christ,” he replied.
“I do not understand,” said Acté softly, “but no matter, I trust you as I would my father; take me where you will, I am ready to follow you.”
The old man rose and walked away, followed by Acté.
CHAPTER XI
NERO spent the rest of the night in sleeplessness and alarm. He trembled lest Anicetus should not be able to find his mother, for he thought that she would probably remain but a short time at the villa, and that the message she had sent him with regard to her being weak and ill was only a means of gaining time so that she might be free to set out for Rome. Already he saw her entering the capital with haughty determination, invoking the aid of the populace, arming the slaves, raising troops, and obtaining admission to the Senate for the purpose of demanding justice in the matter of the shipwreck, for her injuries and the murder of her friends. He trembled like a child at every sound; for, in spite of his outrageous conduct towards her, he had never ceased to fear his mother; he knew of what she was capable, and that she could mete out to him the same treatment as that of which he himself had been guilty.
It was not until seven in the morning that a slave arrived from Anicetus at the palace of Bauli, and, demanding to be conducted to the Emperor’s presence, knelt before him and handed back to him the ring which he had given to the assassin as a symbol of full authority, and which the latter now returned to him according to their bloody compact, in token that the murder was accomplished. At this Nero rose joyfully from his bed, exclaiming that never until now had he felt himself really a ruler, and that he owed his empire to Anicetus.
He judged it of importance, however, to anticipate report, and to put people off the scent in regard to his mother’s death. He wrote instantly to Rome to the effect that Agerinus, his mother’s freedman and confidant, had been surprised in the Emperor’s apartment armed with a dagger for the purpose of assassinating him; and that Agrippina, on learning the failure of her plot, and through fear of the vengeance of the Senate, had put an end to her own life. He added that she had long cherished the scheme of robbing him of the sovereignty, and had boasted that, once the Emperor was dead, she would make the people, the Praetorians and the Senate swear obedience to a woman; that the banishment of a number of distinguished personages was her work, in proof of which he cited the cases of Valerius Capito and Licinius Gabolus, formerly Praetors, Calpurnia, a lady of the highest rank, and Julia Calvina, sister to Silanus, the former lover of Octavia. He alluded also to the shipwreck as an act of vengeance on the part of the gods, thus slandering heaven and lying to earth; the actual writer, however, of this letter was Seneca, since Nero was in such a state of trembling agitation that he was unable to do more than sign it.
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