Reel Life (Sep 1913 - Mar 1914)

Reel Life 7 <5 "In Dacia, oh Trajan, we are royal! We may not be vassals of Rome." (A sneer of hatred and intolerance curled the lips of Empress Valeria — she leaned forward in her chair as she spoke). "These be a stifT-necked people, oh Trajan! Thy clemency but makes thee a jest among the Romans! Send these slaves to the dungeons — that some of that royalty of which they boast may ooze from ihc'r skins. Then place them in the arena — with the be'asts — ■ that we may see how much of it is left when they are about to be devoured I'' A sullen murnnir rose from the massed humanity in the Via Tiburtiiw, below — and a frown of anger settled upon the Emperor's face. Tr;ijan was a just man, ordinarily — but' a masterful one. The cattle riarcd ,o murmur at Valeria, did they! They had mocked her before ! Very well— they should see who was Emperor of Rome ! "En'Mv h! Manlius — come forward — I noted thee when I stepped from my litter. These be thy captives ! Look to them ! Let tin ni be taki n to the dungeons of the Circus Maximus and there confiened un il such time as they shall be cast into the arena!" For an hour longer, the procession of captives and soldiers passed before tlv, Impurial dais — but Octavia, the daughter of Trajan turned, ucuse otisU'. from time to time — looking across the shoulder of the £.^<//n7;;/f /////, down into the depression by the Colosseum at the end of ,he Fniuin. along which Manlius, with some of his Praetfir'ans. was conducting Decebalus and his Mother to the dungeons of the Circus Maximus behind the Palatine Hill. The Prince's royal bearing — his handsome face and figure — had made a deep impression, and the light in his eyes as they met hers, showed an answering one. To piead with her father, in the face of her mother's opposition, she knew would be useless at th^t time — but she hoped something might occur before Decebalus met his death in the arena. At last, came the fatal day. From sunrise, the people began drifting in at the many doors of the Circus Maximus — selecting their sea's, preferably, near the Imperial enclosure, partly because of the vast awnings which sheltered that end of the arena from the blazing sun but more from the desire to see with their own eyes the Emperor's decision as to life or death for the combatants below. It was true they sometimes reversed his decisions by popular clamor when they were sufficiently displeased with them — but — one never could tell — and it was so exceedingly interesting to watch Trajan's face as he carelessly turned to speak with those around him and kept the poor wretches in suspense— before he turned his thumb down. After all — here was nothing like being Emperor of Rome ! There was something fascinating about dallying with half a dozen human lives while one paused to discuss with one's architect, say, whether the arch in the new Forum should be of trayertine or white marble. After a while, the Imperial party arrived. In the dungeons below, there came one to Decabalus who informed him that his time was drawing near — that he must prepare himself to fight. "Aye — that is but a small matter. For, look you, Praetorius — in Dacia, we are always ready to figh'. — from the time we have reached six years. But — with whom, say you?" (The Centurion pointed to a powerfully built man who had pulled his chin up to the level of a barred window and was looking out into the arena). "He! . . . . Otho! Why, he is of Dacia— and therefore my brother! One does not kill one's brother!'' "It is possible thy brother may kill thee, oh Dacian! But that is as maybe. Here are thy own sword and cuirass. Go thou, and the gods be with thee !" A few moments later, there was a low murmur from two hundred thousand throats which increased to a thunder of admiring applause as the bright Roman sunshine fell upon the burnished cuirass and royal figure of Decebalus, Prince of Dacia. Followed, by his worshipping subject, he marched fearlessly along the sandsof the arena until they stood before the Imperial enclosure. Raising his flashing sword at full arm's length in the sunlight, he said, in a clear, resonant voice: Ave Caesar Imperator ! Morituri Salutamus! Then — with a salute to his brother Dacian, the fight began. Back and forth across the yellow sands, they advanced and retreated — giving the spectators as fine an exhibition of Barbarian.