Rome -- History -- Empire, 30 B.C.-284 A.D -- Fiction
The banquet lasted a long time. True, it was only afternoon out of
doors, but any one who did not know that the feast had begun in the
morning would have supposed it was already midnight.
Carinus poured the wine that remained in the drinking horn upon the
floor, in token that he drank some one's health, and then handed it to
Manlius.
"To the health of the beautiful Glyceria!"
"And to yours, Carinus," replied Manlius, giving his own in exchange.
"Manlius," said Carinus, the blood mounting to his face, "do you know
that I have already had one husband of Glyceria slain?"
"You did well, Carinus; but for that I could not become the second."
"Do you know why I had him killed?"
"Because he concealed his wife from you. Fool! Have the gods created
a sun that some one may take possession of it and allow others no
share in its light? Those who snatch a beautiful woman from the world,
and then demand that she shall be loved by no one else, are thieves
and robbers!"
"It might seem strange to you, Manlius, if I should take you at your
word. You must know that I love your wife madly."
"That is your affair, Carinus. I do not keep her locked up. The way to
her is open to every one."
"It is easy for you to play the magnanimous. She herself secludes
herself sufficiently. While hundreds of thousands of men tremble at a
wave of my hand, all my power cannot win the love of this one woman."
"And how Glyceria _can_ love! Ah, Carinus, I know that when, in the
evening, the door opens to me which you always find closed, you would
joyfully permit me to occupy your throne and reign in your stead so
long as you fill my place as bridegroom."
Carinus sprang up as if an electric spark had thrilled him.
"_Hecataea!_ I will take you at your word! Take my throne, command my
slaves, my empire in my name, have my favourites killed, make the
lowest in Rome the highest, empty my treasure-houses, and, for all
this, merely give me the key of your bridal-chamber."
"The bargain is made; here is my hand. Give me the parchment and
stylus. Listen to what I write to Glyceria, and send it to her
dwelling: 'Goddess of my love! I shall spend the hours between evening
and morning with you. My heart longs for your words of consolation.
The cypress-branch has wounded my brow; your rose-wreath may subdue
its flames. When the evening star, the lamp of lovers, begins to
shine, extinguish yours that, if tears should dim my eyes, you may not
see them, but only feel my kisses. Until dawn I shall be with you, and
in possession of my happiness. Your languishing husband, Manlius
Sinister.' Send this letter by a slave, and put on this ring, which
you must show at the door. Then you will be admitted, and Glyceria's
women will conduct you where she awaits you."
Carinus listened greedily to every word from Manlius, who coolly
handed him the ring and the letter. Trembling in every limb, he could
not speak, but motioned to a slave to deliver Manlius' letter to
Glyceria.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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