Tiger, Tiger: Chapter 13 - Epilogue

The clapper of each bell was a tiny ruby.

In any case—did the Roman gods, the gods of her family, want such baubles?

Soon she stood on a great stone bridge that spanned the river, which was in spate.

The snowmelt that came down from the mountains of the north had filled its tributaries and now it was at its highest and swiftest.

Her face was shining with incredulous happiness.

If anyone was watching through their casements they would have seen their princess striding by, her long hair and diaphanous garments lifted by the breeze, the great striped beast at her side, her hand on its neck—they looked like figures on a painted vase or in a sacred mosaic: she a goddess, the tiger her devotee.

They stopped dead at the sight of the girl and the tiger standing together in the glittering, lamplit antechamber.

Her mother, galvanized by the potential horror of the situation, tried to intervene, but Caesar halted her with one imperious gesture.

Her mother, galvanized by the potential horror of the situation, tried to intervene, but Caesar halted her with one imperious gesture.

And anyway, it was only right that he should share her ordeal.

She strove to fill her thoughts with a more powerful emotion than fear or the horrible apprehension of what was to come.

When her mother came to see her and remonstrate with her—"Look at yourself! Have you no self-respect?"—Aurelia turned on her.

She pinioned her with her eyes.

Is the last thing he looks at going to be a cowering, weeping, defeated little wretch, made ugly by hate and sorrow?

She put the finishing touches to Aurelia’s appearance, fastening a diadem across her forehead, a jeweled pendant round her neck, and gold bangles on her wrists.

She put the finishing touches to Aurelia’s appearance, fastening a diadem across her forehead, a jeweled pendant round her neck, and gold bangles on her wrists.

Aurelia started from her apathy.

He held a cornucopia in one hand and a drinking vessel in the other, and had vine leaves in his hair and a swinging tunic to show he was dancing.

As usual, the expectant crowd, chaotically loud a moment before, fell silent as Caesar’s party appeared through the back of the Imperial Box, and then burst into concerted roars of adulation.

As usual, the expectant crowd, chaotically loud a moment before, fell silent as Caesar’s party appeared through the back of the Imperial Box, and then burst into concerted roars of adulation.

Boots alone had no premonition of battle, hurt, and death.

Boots lay down, but, feeling excited, he stood up again and began to prowl, round and round in his narrow prison. Something in that scent had set his nerves alight.

The coins in his hand, he stared at her, helpless before his own cupidity.

His body was taut and trembling with fear.

Not an ignominious death then, in the foul breath of hyenas or even at the teeth of the common lion.

Her eyes still riveted to the beloved pair in the ring, she forced her way among the other guests in the Imperial Box to her father’s side and tried to hug him.

Boots moved forward, in front of Julius, who stood stockstill, petrified.

He feinted to one side, as if to spring, but the other stood in his path.

With a snarl, he leaped over the supine body before him and launched himself at the two-legs.

Julius jumped back, away from those scimitar claws, sweat standing out all over his body, every nerve electric with the urge to flee.

Suddenly through the tumult, from above his head, he heard Aurelia screaming: “Fight, Julius! Fight!”

He could see from the Emperor’s face that it was in his mind, that he longed to use his power. Not when invaders were threatening the Empire and the populous had to be placated.

He took off his wreath of laurels and with a stiff, furious gesture, tossed it to Julius, who set it on his head.

The great concourse of people had the power now, and they sensed it.

Yet a moment ago, Caesar had suffered a defeat—had been turned from his purpose by his own people, any one of whom, individually, he could have had killed without thought or scruple.

Brute sprang after him. His wound hampered him—he stumbled but recovered.

This was partly because Rome’s power and reach were on the wane.

The incursions of barbarian tribes from the north and east became more frequent, and the cost of defending the far-flung borders of the Empire became ever more impossible to maintain.

Though it would be years yet before the Emperor Constantine yielded to his mother’s wishes and declared Christianity the official religion of Rome, Aurelia was able to cleave to her new beliefs—although in secret—and teach them to her children, though they could not practice openly.

And what became of the two tigers? Who can say for certain? They were never caught. Large tracts of southern Italy at that time were unpopulated, full of game and places of concealment.