Herodianus, who had taken his place officiously close to his master, appeared to promise himself immense satisfaction in interpreting the young man’s mood of devout admiration by a long quotation of Greek poetry. He had already thrown himself into a pathetic attitude and laid his finger meditatively on his cheek, when Aurelius signed to him that he wished to be left undisturbed. The freedman, somewhat offended, drew back a step or two while Aurelius, standing by the side of his favorite slave Magus,[22] who preserved a discreet silence, leaned over the bulwark for a long space lost in thought, letting his eye wander over the open sea and linger for a while on the fantastic shapes of the rocks and mountains, which constantly shifted in form and grouping as the swift galley flew onwards.
Capreae was already on their right hand, and the broad bay of Parthenope,[23] with its endless perspective of towns and villas, opened before them like a huge pearly shell; the dark ashy cone of Vesuvius[24] stood up defiantly over the plain where, a short time since, it had engulfed the blooming towns of Herculaneum, Pompeii and Stabiae. Now there rose from its summit only a filmy cloud of smoke, ruddy in the light of the mounting sun. Farther on, the quays of Puteoli were discernible, the stately buildings of Baiae[25] and the islands of Aenaria and Prochyta.[26] On the left hand the distance was unlimited; vessels laden with provisions from Alexandria[27] and merchant-ships from Massilia slowly crossed the horizon like visions; others, with every sail set, flew across the bay to disembark their precious freight in the emporium of Puteoli, whence it would be carried to lay at the feet of Rome, the all-absorbing and insatiable mistress of the world.
Meanwhile the slaves had laid the table under the awning with fine cloths, had arranged couches and seats and strewn the spot with a few flowers, and were now standing ready to serve the morning meal at a sign from their young master. The weary night-rowers had half an hour ago been relieved by a fresh crew, and the fine boat flew on with double rapidity, for a fresh breeze had risen and filled the sails. In an instant the whole face of the waters had changed, and as far as the eye could reach danced crest on crest of foam.
Aurelius wrapped himself more closely in his Tarentine travelling-cloak[28] and involuntarily glanced at Magus, the Gothic slave who stood by his side; but Magus did not seem to see his master’s look, he was gazing motionless and with knitted brows in the direction of Baiae. Then he shaded his eyes from the glare with his right hand.
“Hva gasaihvis.[29] What do you see?” asked Aurelius, who sometimes spoke in Gothic to the man.
“Gasaihva leitil skipκύβιον,” answered the Goth. “A little boat out there not far from the point. If it is the same in your southern seas, as in our northern ones, these good folks would be wise to get their cockleshell to shore as fast as may be. When the sea is covered with eider-down in such a short time, it generally means mischief.”
“You have eyes like a northern sea-eagle. It is indeed, a small boat, hardly visible among the tossing waves, it cannot have more than eight oarsmen at most.”
“There are but four, my lord,” said the Goth. “And with them three ladies.”
The wind was rising every instant; the trireme parted the water like an arrow, and the prow, now rising and now sinking on the billows, dipped in them far above the large metal ornaments.
“It may indeed be a serious matter,” said Aurelius; “not for us—it must be something worse than this that puts the proud ‘Batavia’[30] in peril—but for the ladies in that little bark....”