Antipater had conceived a great liking for the sister of Appius. Her
beauty had roused in him the great cats of passion now stalking their
prey. He had sworn to his intimates that no other man should marry
her. His gallantry was unwelcome, he knew that, and Appius had assured
him that a marriage was impossible; but the wild heart of the Idumean
held to its purpose. And now its hidden eyes were gazing, catlike, on
Vergilius, the cause of its difficulty. In Judea he would have known
how to act, but in Rome he pondered.
It had been a stormy day in the palace of Antipater. He had crucified
a slave for disobedience and run a lance through one of his best horses
for no reason. He came out of his bath a little before the hour of his
banquet, and two slaves, trembling with fear, followed him to his
chamber. They put his tunic on him, and his sandals, and wound the
fillets that held them in place. One of the slaves began brushing the
dark hair of his master while the other was rubbing a precious ointment
on his face and arms.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39