Books: Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

H >> Henryk Sienkiewicz >> Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

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But the lions, though hungry, did not hasten to their victims. The
ruddy light in the arena dazzled them and they half closed their
eyes as if dazed. Some stretched their yellowish bodies lazily;
some, opening their jaws, yawned, -- one might have said that they
wanted to show their terrible teeth to the audience. But later the
odor of blood and torn bodies, many of which were lying on the
sand, began to act on them. Soon their movements became
restless, their manes rose, their nostrils drew in the air with hoarse
sound. One fell suddenly on the body of a woman with a torn face,
and, lying with his fore paws on the body, licked with a rough
tongue the stiffened blood: another approached a man who was
holding in his arms a child sewed up in a fawn's skin.

The child, trembling from crying, and weeping, clung convulsively
to the neck of its father; he, to prolong its life even for a moment,
tried to pull it from his neck, so as to hand it to those kneeling
farther on. But the cry and the movement irritated the lion. All at
once he gave out a short, broken roar, killed the child with one
blow of his paw, and seizing the head of the father in his jaws,
crushed it in a twinkle.

At sight of this all the other lions fell upon the crowd of Christians.
Some women could not restrain cries of terror; but the audience
drowned these with plaudits, which soon ceased, however, for the
wish to see gained the mastery. They beheld terrible things then:
heads disappearing entirely in open jaws, breasts torn apart with
one blow, hearts and lungs swept away; the crushing of bones
under the teeth of lions. Some lions, seizing victims by the ribs or
loins, ran with mad springs through the arena, as if seeking hidden
places in which to devour them; others fought, rose on their hind
legs, grappled one another like wrestlers, and filled the
amphitheatre with thunder. People rose from their places. Some
left their seats, went down lower through the passages to see
better, and crowded one another mortally. It seemed that the
excited multitude would throw itself at last into the arena, and
rend the Christians in company with the lions. At moments an
unearthly noise was heard; at moments applause; at moments
roaring, rumbling, the clashing of teeth, the howling of Molossian
dogs; at times only groans.

Caesar, holding the emerald to his eye, looked now with attention.
The face of Petronius assumed an expression of contempt and
disgust. Chilo had been borne out of the Circus.

But from the cuniculum new victims were driven forth continually.

From the highest row in the amphitheatre the Apostle Peter looked
at them. No one saw him, for all heads were turned to the arena;
so he rose and as formerly in the vineyard of Cornelius he had
blessed for death and eternity those who were intended for
imprisonment, so now he blessed with the cross those who were
perishing under the teeth of wild beasts. He blessed their blood,
their torture, their dead bodies turned into shapeless masses, and
their souls flying away from the bloody sand. Some raised their
eyes to him, and their faces grew radiant; they smiled when they
saw high above them the sign of the cross. But his heart was rent,
and he said, "O Lord! let Thy will be done. These my sheep perish
to Thy glory in testimony of the truth. Thou didst command me to
feed them; hence I give them to Thee, and do Thou count them,
Lord, take them, heal their wounds, soften their pain, give them
happiness greater than the torments which they suffered here."

And he blessed them one after another, crowd after crowd, with as
much love as if they had been his children whom he was giving
directly into the hands of Christ. Then Caesar, whether from
madness, or the wish that the exhibition should surpass everything
seen in Rome so far, whispered a few words to the prefect of the
city. He left the podium and went at once to the cuniculum. Even
the populace were astonished when, after a while, they saw the
gratings open again. Beasts of all kinds were let out this time, --
tigers from the Euphrates, Numidian panthers, bears, wolves,
hyenas, and jackals. The whole arena was covered as with a
moving sea of striped, yellow, flax-colored, dark-brown, and
spotted skins. There rose a chaos in which the eye could
distinguish nothing save a terrible turning and twisting of the
backs of wild beasts. The spectacle lost the appearance of reality,
and became as it were an orgy of blood, a dreadful dream, a
gigantic kaleidoscope of mad fancy. The measure was surpassed.
Amidst roars, howls, whines, here and there on the seats of the
spectators were heard the terrified and spasmodic laughter of
women, whose strength had given way at last. The people were
terrified. Faces grew dark. Various voices began to cry, "Enough!
enough!"

But it was easier to let the beasts in than drive them back again.
Caesar, however, found a means of clearing the arena, and a new
amusement for the people. In all the passages between the seats
appeared detachments of Numidians, black and stately, in feathers
and earrings, with bows in their hands. The people divined what
was coming, and greeted the archers with a shout of delight. The
Numidians approached the railing, and, putting their arrows to the
strings, began to shoot from their bows into the crowd of beasts.
That was a new spectacle truly. Their bodies, shapely as if cut
from dark marble, bent backward, stretched the flexible bows, and
sent bolt after bolt. The whizzing of the strings and the whistling
of the feathered missiles were mingled with the howling of beasts
and cries of wonder from the audience. Wolves, bears, panthers,
and people yet alive fell side by side. Here and there a lion, feeling
a shaft in his ribs, turned with sudden movement, his jaws
wrinkled from rage, to seize and break the arrow. Others groaned
from pain. The small beasts, falling into a panic, ran around the
arena at random, or thrust their heads into the grating; meanwhile
the arrows whizzed and whizzed on, till all that was living had lain
down in the final quiver of death.

Hundreds of slaves rushed into the arena armed with spades,
shovels, brooms, wheelbarrows, baskets for carrying out entrails,
and bags of sand. They came, crowd after crowd, and over the
whole circle there seethed up a feverish activity. The space was
soon cleared of bodies, blood, and mire, dug over, made smooth,
and sprinkled with a thick layer of fresh sand. That done, Cupids
ran in, scattering leaves of roses, lilies, and the greatest variety of
flowers. The censers were ignited again, and the velarium was
removed, for the sun had sunk now considerably. But people
looked at one another with amazement, and inquired what kind of
new spectacle was waiting for them on that day.

Indeed, such a spectacle was waiting as no one had looked for.
Caesar, who had left the podium some time before, appeared all at
once on the flowery arena, wearing a purple mantle, and a crown
of gold. Twelve choristers holding citharae followed him. He had a
silver lute, and advanced with solemn tread to the middle, bowed a
number of times to the spectators, raised his eyes, and stood as if
waiting for inspiration.

Then he struck the strings and began to sing, --

"O radiant son of Leto,
Ruler of Tenedos, Chios, Chrysos,
Art thou he who, having in his care
The sacred city of Ilion,
Could yield it to Argive anger,
And suffer sacred altars,
Which blazed unceasingly to his honor,
To be stained with Trojan blood?
Aged men raised trembling hands to thee,
O thou of the far-shooting silver bow,
Mothers from the depth of their breasts
Raised tearful cries to thee,
Imploring pity on their offspring.
Those complaints might have moved a stone,
But to the suffering of people
Thou, O Smintheus, wert less feeling than a stone!"

The song passed gradually into an elegy, plaintive and full of pain.
In the Circus there was silence. After a while Caesar, himself
affected, sang on, --

"With the sound of thy heavenly lyre
Thou couldst drown the wailing,
The lament of hearts.
At the sad sound of this song
The eye to-day is filled with tears,
As a flower is filled with dew,
But who can raise from dust and ashes
That day of fire, disaster, ruin?
O Smintheus, where wert thou then?"

Here his voice quivered and his eyes grew moist. Tears appeared
on the lids of the vestals; the people listened in silence before they
burst into a long unbroken storm of applause.

Meanwhile from outside through the vomitoria came the sound of
creaking vehicles on which were placed the bloody remnants of
Christians, men, women, and children, to be taken to the pits
called "puticuli."

But the Apostle Peter seized his trembling white head with his
hands, and cried in spirit, --

"O Lord, O Lord! to whom hast Thou given rule ovcr the earth, and
why wilt Thou found in this place Thy capital?"

1 I seek not thee, I seek a fish;
Why flee from me O Gaul?"

2 Christ reigns

Chapter LVI

THE sun had lowered toward its setting, and seemed to dissolve in
the red of the evening. The spectacle was finished. Crowds were
leaving the amphitheatre and pouring out to the city through the
passages called vomitoria. Only Augustians delayed; they were
waiting for the stream of people to pass. They had all left their
seats and assembled at the podium, in which Caesar appeared
again to hear praises. Though the spectators had not spared
plaudits at the end of the song, Nero was not satisfied; he had
looked for enthusiasm touching on frenzy. In vain did hymns of
praise sound in his ears; in vain did vestals kiss his "divine" hand,
and while doing so Rubria bent till her reddish hair touched his
breast. Nero was not satisfied, and could not hide the fact. He was
astonished and also disturbed because Petronius was silent. Some
flattering and pointed word from his mouth would have been a
great consolation at that moment. Unable at last to restrain
himself, Caesar beckoned to the arbiter.

"Speak," said he, when Petronius entered the podium.

"I am silent," answered Petronius, coldly, "for I cannot find words.
Thou hast surpassed thyself."

"So it seemed to me too; but still this people --"

"Canst thou expect mongrels to appreciate poetry?"

"But thou too hast noticed that they have not thanked me as I
deserve."

"Because thou hast chosen a bad moment."

"How?"

"When men's brains are filled with the odor of blood, they cannot
listen attentively."

"Ah, those Christians!" replied Nero, clenching his fists. "They
burned Rome, and injure me now in addition. What new
punishment shall I invent for them?"

Petronius saw that he had taken the wrong road, that his words had
produced an effect the very opposite of what he intended; so, to
turn Caesar's mind in another direction, he bent toward him and
whispered, --

"Thy song is marvellous, but I will make one remark: in the fourth
line of the third strophe the metre leaves something to be desired."

Nero, blushing with shame, as if caught in a disgraceful deed, had
fear in his look, and answered in a whisper also, --

"Thou seest everything. I know. I will re-write that. But no one
else noticed it, I think. And do thou, for the love of the gods,
mention it to no one, -- if life is dear to thee."

To this Petronius answered, as if in an outburst of vexation and
anger, --

"Condemn me to death, O divinity, if I deceive thee; but thou wilt
not terrify me, for the gods know best of all if I fear death."

And while speaking he looked straight into Caesar's eyes, who
answered after a while, --

"Be not angry; thou knowest that I love thee."

"A bad sign!" thought Petronius.

"I wanted to invite thee to-day to a feast," continued Nero, "but I
prefer to shut myself in and polish that cursed line in the third
strophe. Besides thee Seneca may have noticed it, and perhaps
Secundus Carinas did; but I will rid myself of them quickly."

Then he summoned Seneca, and declared that with Acratus and
Secundus Carinas, he sent him to the Italian and all other
provinces for money, which he commanded him to obtain from
cities, villages, famous temples, -- in a word, from every place
where it was possible to find money, or from which they could
force it. But Seneca, who saw that Caesar was confiding to him a
work of plunder, sacrilege, and robbery, refused straightway.

"I must go to the country, lord," said he, "and await death, for I am
old and my nerves are sick."

Seneca's Iberian nerves were stronger than Chilos; they were not
sick, perhaps, but in general his health was bad, for he seemed like
a shadow, and recently his hair had grown white altogether.

Nero, too, when he looked at him, thought that he would not have
to wait long for the man's death, and answered, --

"I will not expose thee to a journey if thou art ill, but through
affection I wish to keep thee near me. Instead of going to the
country, then, thou wilt stay in thy own house, and not leave it."

Then he laughed, and said, "If I send Acratus and Carinas by
themselves, it, will be like sending wolves for sheep. Whom shall I
set above them?"

"Me, lord," said Domitius Afer.

"No! I have no wish to draw on Rome the wrath of Mercury, whom
ye would put to shame with your villainy. I need some stoic like
Seneca, or like my new friend, the philosopher Chilo."

Then he looked around, and asked, --

"But what has happened to Chilo?"

Chilo, who had recovered in the open air and returned to the
amphitheatre for Caesar's song, pushed up, and said, --

"I am here, O Radiant Offspring of the sun and moon. I was ill, but
thy song has restored me."

"I will send thee to Achaea," said Nero. "Thou must know to a
copper how much there is in each temple there."

"Do so, O Zeus, and the gods will give thee such tribute as they
have never given any one."

"I would, but I do not like to prevent thee from seeing the games."

"Baal!" said Chilo.

The Augustians, delighted that Caesar had regained humor, fell to
laughing, and exclaimed, --

"No, lord, deprive not this valiant Greek of a sight of the games."

"But preserve sue, O lord, from the sight of these noisy geese of
the Capitol, whose brains put together would not fill a nutshell,"
retorted Chilo. "O firstborn of Apollo, I am writing a Greek hymn
in thy honor, and I wish to spend a few days in the temple of the
Muses to implore inspiration."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Nero. "It is thy wish to escape future games.
Nothing will come of that!"

"I swear to thee, lord, that I am writing a hymn."

"Then thou wilt write it at night. Beg inspiration of Diana, who, by
the way, is a sister of Apollo."

Chilo dropped his head and looked with malice on those present,
who began to laugh again. Caesar, turning to Senecio and Suilius
Nerulinus, said, --

"Imagine, of the Christians appointed for to-day we have been able
to finish hardly half!"

At this old Aquilus Regulus, who had great knowledge of
everything touching the amphitheatre, thought a while, and said, --

"Spectacles in which people appear sine armis et sine arte last
almost as long and are less entertaining."

"I will command to give them weapons," answered Nero.

But the superstitious Vestinius was roused from meditation at
once, and asked in a mysterious voice, --

"Have ye noticed that when dying they see something? They look
up, and die as it were without pain. I am sure that they see
something."

He raised his eyes then to the opening of the amphitheatre, over
which night had begun to extend its velarium dotted with stars. But
others answered with laughter and jesting suppositions as to what
the Christians could see at the moment of death. Meanwhile
Caesar gave a signal to the slave torch-bearers, and left the Circus;
after him followed vestals, senators, dignitaries, and Augustians.

The night was clear and warm. Before the Circus were moving
throngs of people, curious to witness the departure of Caesar; but
in some way they were gloomy and silent. Here and there applause
was heard, but it ceased quickly. From the spoliarium creaking
carts bore away the bloody remnants of Christians.

Petronius and Vinicius passed over their road in silence. Only
when near his villa did Petronius inquire, --

"Hast thou thought of what I told thee?" "I have," answered
Vinicius.

"Dost believe that for me too this is a question of the highest
importance? I must liberate her in spite of Caesar and Tigellinus.
This is a kind of battle in which I have undertaken to conquer, a
kind of play in which I wish to win, even at the cost of my life.
This day has confirmed me still more in my plan."

"May Christ reward thee."

"Thou wilt see."

Thus conversing, they stopped at the door of the villa and
descended from the litter. At that moment a dark figure
approached them, and asked, --

"Is the noble Vinicius here?"

"He is," answered the tribune. "What is thy wish?"

"I am Nazarius, the son of Miriam. I come from the prison, and
bring tidings of Lygia."

Vinicius placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and looked
into his eyes by the torchlight, without power to speak a word, but
Nazarius divined the question which was dying on his lips, and
replied, --

"She is living yet. Ursus sent me to say that she prays in her fever,
and repeats thy name."

"Praise be to Christ, who has power to restore her to me," said
Vinicius. He conducted Nazarius to the library, and after a while
Petronius came in to hear their conversation.

"Sickness saved her from shame, for executioners are timid," said
the youth. "Ursus and Glaucus the physician watch over her night
and day."

"Are the guards the same?"

"They are, and she is in their chamber. All the prisoners in the
lower dungeon died of fever, or were stifled from foul air."

"Who art thou?" inquired Petronins.

"The noble Vinicius knows me. I am the son of that widow with
whom Lygia lodged."

"And a Christian?"

The youth looked with inquiring glance at Vinicius, but, seeing
him in prayer, he raised his head, and answered, --

"I am."

"How canst thou enter the prison freely?"

"I hired myself to carry out corpses; I did so to assist my brethren
and bring them news from the city."

Petronius looked more attentively at the comely face of the youth,
his blue eyes, and dark, abundant hair.

"From what country art thou, youth?" asked he.

"I am a Galilean, lord."

"Wouldst thou like to see Lygia free?"

The youth raised his eyes. "Yes, even had I to die afterwards."

Then Vinicius ceased to pray, and said, --

"Tell the guards to place her in a coffin as if she were dead. Thou
wilt find assistants to bear her out in the night with thee. Near the
'Putrid Pits' will be people with a litter waiting for you; to them ye
will give the coffin. Promise the guards from me as much gold as
each can carry in his mantle."

While speaking, his face lost its usual torpor, and in him was
roused the soldier to whom hope had restored his former energy.

Nazarius was flushed with delight, and, raising his hands, he
exclaimed,

"May Christ give her health, for she will be free."

"Dost thou think that the guards will consent?" inquired Petronius.

"They, lord? Yes, if they know that punishment and torture will
not touch them."

"The guards would consent to her flight; all the more will they let
us bear her out as a corpse," said Vinicius.

"There is a man, it is true," said Nazarius, "who burns with red-hot
iron to see if the bodies which we carry out are dead. But he will
take even a few sestertia not to touch the face of the dead with
iron. For one aureus he will touch the coffin, not the body."

"Tell him that he will get a cap full of aurei," said Petronius. "But
canst thou find reliable assistants?"

"I can find men who would sell their own wives and children for
money."

"Where wilt thou find them?"

"In the prison itself or in the city. Once the guards are paid, they
will admit whomever I like."

"In that case take me as a hired servant," said Vinicius.

But Petronius opposed this most earnestly. "The pretorians might
recognize thee even in disguise, and all would be lost. Go neither
to the prison nor the 'Putrid Pits.' All, including Caesar and
Tigellinus, should be convinced that she died; otherwise they will
order immediate pursuit. We can lull suspicion only in this way:
When she is taken to the Alban Hills or farther, to Sicily, we shall
be in Rome. A week or two later thou wilt fall ill, and summon
Nero's physician; he will tell thee to go to the mountains. Thou and
she will meet, and afterward --"

Here he thought a while; then, waving his hand, he said, --

"Other times may come."

"May Christ have mercy on her," said Vinicius. "Thou art speaking
of Sicily, while she is sick and may die."

"Let us keep her nearer Rome at first. The air alone will restore
her, if only we snatch her from the dungeon. Hast thou no manager
in the mountains whom thou canst trust?"

"I have," replied Vinicius, hurriedly. "Near Corioli is a reliable
man who carried me in his arms when I was a child, and who loves
me yet."

"Write to him to come to-morrow," said Petronius, handing
Vinicius tablets. "I will send a courier at once."

He called the chief of the atrium then, and gave the needful orders.
A few minutes later, a mounted slave was coursing in the night
toward Corioli.

"It would please me were Ursus to accompany her," said Vinicius.
"I should be more at rest."

"Lord," said Nazarius, "that is a man of superhuman strength; he
can break gratings and follow her. There is one window above a
steep, high rock where no guard is placed. I will take Ursus a rope;
the rest he will do himself."

"By Hercules!" said Petronius, "let him tear himself out as he
pleases, but not at the same time with her, and not two or three
days later, for they would follow him and discover her
hiding-place. By Hercules! do ye wish to destroy yourselves and
her? I forbid you to name Corioli to him, or I wash my hands."

Both recognized the justice of these words, and were silent.
Nazarius took leave, promising to come the next morning at
daybreak.

He hoped to finish that night with the guards, but wished first to
run in to see his mother, who in that uncertain and dreadful time
had no rest for a moment thinking of her son. After some thought
he had determined not to seek an assistant in the city, but to find
and bribe one from among his fellow corpse-bearers. When going,
he stopped, and, taking Vinicius aside, whispered, --

"I will not mention our plan to any one, not even to my mother, but
the Apostle Peter promised to come from the amphitheatre to our
house; I will tell him everything."

"Here thou canst speak openly," replied Vinicius. "The Apostle
was in the amphitheatre with the people of Petronius. But I will go
with you myself."

He gave command to bring him a slave's mantle, and they passed
out. Pctronius sighed deeply.

"I wished her to die of that fever," thought he, "since that would
have been less terrible for Vinicius. But now I am ready to offer a
golden tripod to Esculapius for her health. Ah! Ahenobarbus, thou
hast the wish to turn a lover's pain into a spectacle; thou, Augusta,
wert jealous of the maiden's beauty, and wouldst devour her alive
because thy Ruflus has perished. Thou, Tigellinus, wouldst destroy
her to spite me! We shall see. I tell you that your eyes will not
behold her on the arena, for she will either die her own death, or I
shall wrest her from you as from the jaws of dogs, and wrest her in
such fashion that ye shall not know it; and as often afterward as I
look at you I shall think, These are the fools whom Caius Petronius
outwitted."

And, self-satisfied, he passed to the triclinium, where he sat down
to supper with Eunice. During the meal a lector read to them the
Idyls of Theocritus. Out of doors the wind brought clouds from the
direction of Soracte, and a sudden storm broke the silence of the
calm summer night. From time to time thunder reverberated on the
seven hills, while they, reclining near each other at the table,
listened to the bucolic poet, who in the singing Done dialect
celebrated the loves of shepherds. Later on, with minds at rest,
they prepared for sweet slumber.

But before this Vinicius returned. Petronius heard of his coming,
and went to meet him.

"Well? Have ye fixed anything new?" inquired he. "Has Nazarius
gone to the prison?"

"He has," answered the young man, arranging his hair, wet from
the rain. "Nazarius went to arrange with the guards, and I have
seen Peter, who commanded me to pray and believe."

"That is well. If all goes favorably, we can bear her away
to-morrow night."

"My manager must be here at daybreak with men."

"The road is a short one. Now go to rest."

But Vinicius knelt in his cubiculum and prayed.

At sunrise Niger, the manager, arrived from Corioli, bringing with
him, at the order of Vinicius, mules, a litter, and four trusty men
selected among slaves from Britain, whom, to save appearances,
he had left at an inn in the

Subura. Vinicius, who had watched all night, went to meet him.
Niger, moved at sight of his youthful master, kissed his hands and
eyes, saying, --