Books: Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

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"My dear, thou art ill, or else suffering has sucked the blood from
thy face, for hardly did I know thee at first."

Vinicius took him to the interior colonnade, and there admitted
him to the secret. Niger listened with fixed attention, and on his
dry, sunburnt face great emotion was evident; this he did not even
try to master.

"Then she is a Christian?" exclaimed Niger; and he looked
inquiringly into the face of Vinicius, who divined evidently what
the gaze of the countryman was asking, since he answered, --

"I too am a Christian."

Tears glistened in Niger's eyes that moment. He was silent for a
while; then, raising his hands, he said, --

"I thank Thee, O Christ, for having taken the beam from eyes
which are the dearest on earth to me."

Then he embraced the head of Vinicius, and, weeping from
happiness, fell to kissing his forehead. A moment later, Petronius
appeared, bringing Nazarius.

"Good news!" cried he, while still at a distance.

Indeed, the news was good. First, Glaucus the physician
guaranteed Lygia's life, though she had the same prison fever of
which, in the Tullianum and other dungeons, hundreds of people
were dying daily. As to the guards and the man who tried corpses
with red-hot iron, there was not the least difficulty. Attys, the
assistant, was satisfied also.

"We made openings in the coffin to let the sick woman breathe,"
said Nazarius. "The only danger is that she may groan or speak as
we pass the pretorians. But she is very weak, and is lying with
closed eyes since early morning. Besides, Glaucus will give her a
sleeping draught prepared by himself from drugs brought by me
purposely from the city. The cover will not be nailed to the coffin;
ye will raise it easily and take the patient to the litter. We will
place in the coffin a long bag of sand, which ye will provide."

Vinicius, while hearing these words, was as pale as linen; but he
listened with such attention that he seemed to divine at a glance
what Nazarius had to say.

"Will they carry out other bodies from the prison?" inquired
Petronius.

"About twenty died last night, and before evening more will be
dead," said the youth. "We must go with a whole company, but we
will delay and drop into the rear. At the first corner my comrade
will get lame purposely. In that way we shall remain behind the
others considerably. Ye will wait for us at the small temple of
Libitina. May God give a night as dark as possible!"

"He will," said Niger. "Last evening was bright, and then a sudden
storm came. To-day the sky is clear, but since morning it is sultry.
Every night now there will be wind and rain."

"Will ye go without torches?" inquired Vinicius.

"The torches are carried only in advance. In every event, be near
the temple of Libitina at dark, though usually we carry out the
corpses only just before midnight."

They stopped. Nothing was to be heard save the hurried breathing
of Vinicius. Petronius turned to him, --

"I said yesterday that it would be best were we both to stay at
home, but now I see that I could not stay. Were it a question of
flight, there would be need of the greatest caution; but since she
will be borne out as a corpse, it seems that not the least suspicion
will enter the head of any one."

"True, true!" answered Vinicius. "I must be there. I will take her
from the coffin myself."

"Once she is in my house at Corioli, I answer for her," said Niger.
Conversation stopped here. Niger returned to his men at the inn.
Nazarius took a purse of gold under his tunic and went to the
prison. For Vinicius began a day filled with alarm, excitement,
disquiet, and hope.

"The undertaking ought to succeed, for it is well planned," said
Petronius. "It was impossible to plan better. Thou must feign
suffering, and wear a dark toga. Do not desert the amphitheatre.
Let people see thee. All is so fixed that there cannot be failure. But
-- art thou perfectly sure of thy manager?"

"He is a Christian," replied Vinicius.

Petronius looked at him with amazement, then shrugged his
shoulders, and said, as if in soliloquy, --

"By Pollux! how it spreads, and commands people's souls. Under
such terror as the present, men would renounce straightway all the
gods of Rome, Greece, and Egypt. Still, this is wonderful! By
Pollux! if I believed that anything depended on our gods, I would
sacrifice six white bullocks to each of them, and twelve to
Capitoline Jove. Spare no promises to thy Christ."

"I have given Him my soul," said Vinicius.

And they parted. Petronius returned to his cubiculum; but Vinicius
went to look from a distance at the prison, and thence betook
himself to the slope of the Vatican hill, -- to that hut of the
quarryman where he had received baptism from the hands of the
Apostle. It seemed to him that Christ would hear him more readily
there than in any other place; so when he found it, he threw
himself on the ground and exerted all the strength of his suffering
soul in prayer f or mercy, and so forgot himself that he
remembered not where he was or what he was doing. In the
afternoon he was roused by the sound of trumpets which came
from the direction of Nero's Circus. He went out of the hut, and
gazed around with eyes which were as if just opened from sleep.

It was hot; the stillness was broken at intervals by the sound of
brass and continually by the ceaseless noise of grasshoppers. The
air had become sultry, the sky was still clear over the city, but near
the Sabine Hills dark clouds were gathering at the edge of the
horizon.

Vinicius went home. Petronius was waiting for him in the atrium.

"I have been on the Palatine," said he. "I showed myself there
purposely, and even sat down at dice. There is a feast at the house
of Anicius this evening; I promised to go, but only after midnight,
saying that I must sleep before that hour. In fact I shall be there,
and it would be well wert thou to go also."

"Are there no tidings from Niger or Nazarius?" inquired Vinicius.

"No; we shall see them only at midnight. Hast noticed that a storm
is threatening?"

"Yes."

"To-morrow there is to be an exhibition of crucified Christians, but
perhaps rain will prevent it."

Then he drew nearer and said, touching his nephew's shoulder, --
"But thou wilt not see her on the cross; thou wilt see her only in
Corioli. By Castor! I would not give the moment in which we free
her for all the gems in Rome. The evening is near."

In truth the evening was near, and darkness began to encircle the
city earlier than usual because clouds covered the whole horizon.
With the corming of night heavy rain fell, which turned into
steam on the stones warmed by the heat of the day, and filled the
streets of the city with mist. After that came a lull, then brief
violent showers.

"Let us hurry!" said Vinicius at last; "they may carry bodies from
the prison earlier because of the storm."

"It is time!" said Petronius.

And taking Gallic mantles with hoods, they passed through the
garden door to the street. Petronius had armed himself with a short
Roman knife called sicca, which he took always during night trips.

The city was empty because of the storm. From time to time
lightning rent the clouds, illuminating with its glare the fresh walls
of houses newly built or in process of building and the wet
flag-stones with which the streets were paved. At last a flash came,
when they saw, after a rather long road, the mound on which stood
the small temple of Libitina, and at the foot of the mound a group
of mules and horses.

"Niger!" called Vinicius, in a low voice.

"I am here, lord," said a voice in the rain.

"Is everything ready?"

"It is. We were here at dark. But hide yourselves under the
rampart, or ye will be drenched. What a storm! Hail will fall, I
think."

In fact Niger's fear was justified, for soon hail began to fall, at first
fine, then larger and more frequent. The air grew cold at once.
While standing under the rampart, sheltered from the wind and icy
missiles, they conversed in low voices.

"Even should some one see us," said Niger, "there will be no
suspicion; we look like people waiting for the storm to pass. But I
fear that they may not bring the bodies out till morning."

"The hail-storm will not last," said Petronius. "We must wait even
till daybreak."

They waited, listening to hear the sound of the procession. The
hail-storm passed. but immediately after a shower began to roar.
At times the wind rose, and brought from the 'Putrid Pits" a
dreadful odor of decaying bodies, buried near the surface and
carelessly.

"I see a light through the mist," said Niger, -- "one, two, three, --
those are torches. See that the mules do not snort," said he, turning
to the men.

"They are coming!" said Petronius.

The lights were growing more and more distinct. After a time it
was possible to see torches under the quivering flames.

Niger made the sign of the cross, and began to pray. Meanwhile
the gloomy procession drew nearer, and halted at last in front of
the temple of Libitina. Petronius, Vinicius, and Niger pressed up to
the rampart in silence, not knowing why the halt was made. But
the men had stopped only to cover their mouths and faces with
cloths to ward off the stifling stench which at the edge of the
"Putrid Pits" was simply unendurable; then they raised the biers
with coffins and moved on. Only one coffin stopped before the
temple. Vinicius sprang toward it, and after him Petronius, Niger,
and two British slaves with the litter.

But before they had reached it in the darkness, the voice of
Nazarius was heard, full of pain, --

"Lord, they took her with Ursus to the Esquiline prison. We are
carrying another body! They removed her before midnight."

Petronius, when he had returned home, was gloomy as a storm,
and did not even try to console Vinicius. He understood that to free
Lygia from the Esquiline dungeons was not to be dreamed of. He
divined that very likely she had been taken from the Tullianum so
as not to die of fever and escape the amphitheatre assigned to her.
But for this very reason she was watched and guarded more
carefully than others. From the bottom of his soul Petronius was
sorry for her and Vinicius, but he was wounded also by the thought
that for the first time in life he had not succeeded, and for the first
time was beaten in a struggle.

"Fortune seems to desert me," said he to himself, "but the gods are
mistaken if they think that I will accept such a life as his, for
example."

Here he turned toward Vinicius, who looked at him with staring
eyes. "What is the matter? Thou hast a fever," said Petronius.

But Vinicius answered with a certain strange, broken, halting
voice, like that of a sick child, -- "But I believe that He -- can
restore her to me."

Above the city the last thunders of the storm had ceased.

Chapter LVII

THREE days' rain, an exceptional phenomenon in Rome during
summer, and hail falling in opposition to the natural order, not
only in the day, but even at night, interrupted the spectacles.
People were growing alarmed. A failure of grapes was predicted,
and when on a certain afternoon a thunderbolt melted the bronze
statue of Ceres on the Capitol, sacrifices were ordered in the
temple of Jupiter Salvator. The priests of Ceres spread a report that
the anger of the gods was turned on the city because of the too
hasty punishment of Christians; hence crowds began to insist that
the spectacles be given without reference to weather. Delight
seized all Rome when the announcement was made at last that the
ludus would begin again after three days' interval.

Meanwhile beautiful weather returned. The amphitheatre was
filled at daybreak with thousands of people. Caesar came early
with the vestals and the court. The spectacle was to begin with a
battle among the Christians, who to this end were arrayed as
gladiators and furnished with all kinds of weapons which served
gladiators by profession in offensive and defensive struggles. But
here came disappointment. The Christians threw nets, darts,
tridents, and swords on the arena, embraced and encouraged one
another to endurance in view of torture and death. At this deep
indignation and resentment seized the hearts of the multitude.
Some reproached the Christiaiis with cowardice and pusillanimity;
others asserted that they refused to fight through hatred of the
people, so as to deprive them of that pleasure which the sight of
bravery produces. Finally, at command of Caesar, real gladiators
were let out, who despatched in one twinkle the kneeling and
defenceless victims.

When these bodies were removed, the spectacle was a series of
mythologic pictures, -- Caesar's own idea. The audience saw
Hercules blazing in living fire on Mount Oeta. Vinicius had
trembled at the thought that the role of Hercules might be intended
for Ursus; but evidently the turn of Lygia's faithful servant had not
come, for on the pile some other Christian was burning, -- a man
quite unknown to Vinicius. In the next picture Chilo, whom Caesar
would not excuse from attendance, saw acquaintances. The death
of Daedalus was represented, and also that of Icarus. In the role of
Daerdalus appeared Euricius, that old man who had given Chilo
the sign of the fish; the role of Icarus was taken by his son,
Quartus. Both were raised aloft with cunning machinery, and then
hurled suddenly from an immense height to the arena. Young
Quartus fell so near Caesar's podium that he spattered with blood
not only the external ornaments but the purple covering spread
over the front of the podium. Chilo did not see the fall, for he
closed his eves; but he heard the dull thump of the body, and when
after a time he saw blood there close to him, he came near fainting
a second time.

The pictures changed quickly. The shameful torments of maidens
violated before death by gladiators dressed as wild beasts,
delighted the hearts of the rabble. They saw priestesses of Cybele
and Ceres, they saw the Danaides, they saw Dirce and Pasiphae;
finally they saw young girls, not mature yet, torn asunder by wild
horses. Every moment the crowd applauded new ideas of Nero,
who, proud of them, and made happy by plaudits, did not take the
emerald from his eye for one instant while looking at white bodies
torn with iron, and the convulsive quivering of victims.

Pictures were given also from the history of the city. After the
maidens they saw Mucius Scaevola, whose hand fastened over a
fire to a tripod filled the amphitheatre with the odor of burnt flesh;
but this man, like the real Scaevola, remained without a groan, his
eyes raised and the murmur of prayer on his blackening lips. When
he had expired and his body was dragged to the spoliarium, the
usual midday interlude followed. Caesar with the vestals and the
Augustians left the amphitheatre, and withdrew to an immense
scarlet tent erected purposely; in this was prepared for him and the
guests a magnificent prandium. The spectators for the greater part
followed his example, arid, streaming out, disposed themselves in
picturesque groups around the tent, to rest their limbs wearied
from long sitting, and enjoy the food which, through Caesar's
favor, was served by slaves to them. Only the most curious
descended to the arena itself, and, touching with their fingers
lumps of sand held together by blood, conversed, as specialists and
amateurs, of that which had happened and of that which was to
follow. Soon even these went away, lest they might be late for the
feast; only those few were left who stayed not through curiosity,
but sympathy for the coming victims. Those concealed themselves
behind seats or in the lower places.

Meanwhile the arena was levelled, and slaves began to dig holes
one near the other in rows throughout the whole circuit from side
to side, so that the last row was but a few paces distant from
Caesar's podium. From outside came the murmur of people, shouts
and plaudits, while within they were preparing in hot haste for new
tortures. The cunicula were opened simultaneously, and in all
passages leading to the arena were urged forward crowds of
Christians naked and carrying crosses on their shoulders. The
whole arena was filled with them. Old men, bending under the
weight of wooden beams, ran forward; at the side of these went
men in the prime of life, women with loosened hair behind which
they strove to hide their nakedness, small boys, and little children.
The crosses, for the greater part, as well as the victims, were
wreathed with flowers. The servants of the amphitheatre beat the
unfortunates with clubs, forcing them to lay down their crosses
near the holes prepared, and stand themselves there in rows. Thus
were to perish those whom executioners had had no chance to
drive out as food for dogs and wild beasts the first day of the
games. Black slaves seized the victims, laid them face upward on
the wood, and fell to nailing their hands hurriedly and quickly to
the arms of the crosses, so that people returning after the interlude
might find all the crosses standing. The whole amphitheatre
resounded with the noise of hammers which echoed through all the
rows, went out to the space surrounding the amphitheatreae and
into the tent where Caesar was entertaining his suite and the
vestals. There he drank wine, bantered with Chilo, and whispered
strange words in the ears of the priestesses of Vesta; but on the
arena the work was seething, -- nails were going into the hands and
feet of the Christians; shovels moved quickly, filling the holes in
which the crosses had been planted.

Among the new victims whose turn was to come soon was
Crispus. The lions had not had time to rend him; hence he was
appointed to the cross. He, ready at all times for death, was
delighted with the thought that his hour was approaching. He
seemed another man, for his emaciated body was wholly naked, --
only a girdle of ivy encircled his hips, on his head was a garland of
roses. But in his eyes gleamed always that same exhaustless
energy; that same fanatical stern face gazed from beneath the
crown of roses. Neither had his heart changed; for, as once in the
cuniculum he had threatened with the wrath of God his brethren
sewed up in the skins of wild beasts, so to-day he thundered in
place of consoling them.

"Thank the Redeemer," said Crispus, "that He permits you to die
the same death that He Himself died. Maybe a part of your sins
will be remitted for this cause; but tremble, since justice must be
satisfied, and there cannot be one reward for the just and the
wicked."

His words were accompanied by the sound of the hammers nailing
the hands and feet of victims. Every moment more crosses were
raised on the arena; but he, turning to the crowd standing each man
by his own cross, continued, --

"1 see heaven open, but I see also the yawning abyss. I know not
what account of my life to give the Lord, though I have believed,
and hated evil. I fear, not death, but resurrection; I fear, not torture,
but judgment, for the day of wrath is at hand."

At that moment was heard from between the nearest rows some
voice, calm and solemn, --

"Not the day of wrath, but of mercy, the day of salvation and
happiness; for I say that Christ will gather you in, will comfort you
and seat you at His right hand. Be confident, for heaven is opening
before you."

At these words all eyes were turned to the benches; even those
who were hanging on the crosses raised their pale, tortured faces,
and looked toward the man who was speaking.

But he went to the barrier surrounding the arena, and blessed them
with the sign of the cross.

Crispus stretched out his arm as if to thunder at him; but when he
saw the man's face, he dropped his arm, the knees bent under him,
and his lips whispered, "Paul the Apostle!"

To the great astonishment of the servants of the Circus, all of those
who were not nailed to the crosses yet knelt down. Paul turned to
Crispus and said,--

"Threaten them not, Crispus, for this day they will be with thee in
paradise. It is thy thought that they may be condemned. But who
will condemn?

Will God, who gave His Son for them? Will Christ, who died for
their salvation, condemn when they die for His name? And how is
it possible that He who loves can condemn? Who will accuse the
chosen of God? Who will say of this blood, 'It is cursed'?"

"I have hated evil," said the old priest.

"Christ's command to love men was higher than that to hate evil,
for His religion is not hatred, but love."

"I have sinned in the hour of death," answered Crispus, beating his
breast. The manager of the seats approached the Apostle, and
inquired, --

"Who art thou, speaking to the condemned?"

"A Roman citizen," answered Paul, calmly. Then, turning to
Crispus, he said: "Be confident, for to-day is a day of grace; die in
peace, O servant of God."

The black men approached Crispus at that moment to place him on
the cross; but he looked around once again, and cried, --

"My brethren, pray for me!"

His face had lost its usual sternness; his stony features had taken
an expression of peace and sweetness. He stretched his arms
himself along the arms of the cross, to make the work easier, and,
looking directly into heaven, began to pray earnestly. He seemed to
feel nothing; for when the nails entered his hands, not the least
quiver shook his body, nor on his face did there appear any wrinkle
of pain. He prayed when they raised the cross and trampled the
earth around it. Only when crowds began to fill the amphitheatre
with shouts and laughter did his brows frown somewhat, as if in
anger that a pagan people were disturbing the calm and peace of a
sweet death.

But all the crosses had been raised, so that in the arena there stood
as it were a forest, with people hanging on the trees. On the arms
ni the crosses and on the heads of the martyrs fell the gleam of the
sun; but on the arena was a deep shadow, forming a kind of black
involved grating through which glittered the golden sand. That
was a spectacle in which the whole delight of the audience
consisted in looking at a lingering death. Never before had men
seen such a density of crosses. The arena was packed so closely
that the servants squeezed between them only with effort. On the
edges were women especially; but Crispus, as a leader, was raised
almost in front of Caesar's podium, on an immense cross, wreathed
below with honeysuckle. None of the victims had died yet, but
some of those fastened earlier had fainted. No one groaned; no one
called for mercy. Some were hanging with head inclined on one
arm, or dropped on the breast, as if seized by sleep; some were as
if in meditation; some, looking toward heaven, were moving their
lips quietly. In this terrible forest of crosses, among those crucified
bodies, in that silence of victims there was something ominous.
The people who, filled by the feast and gladsome, had returned to
the Circus with shouts, became silent, not knowing on which body
to rest their eyes, or what to think of the spectacle. The nakedness
of strained female forms roused no feeling. They did not make the
usual bets as to who would die first, -- a thing done generally when
there was even the smallest number of criminals on the arena. It
seemed that Caesar himself was bored, for he turned lazily and
with drowsy expression to arrange his necklace.

At that moment Crispus, who was hanging opposite, and who, like
a man in a faint or dying, had kept his eyes closed, opened them
and looked at Caesar. His face assumed an expression so pitiless,
and his eyes flashed with such fire, that the Augustians whispered
to one another, pointing at him with their fingers, and at last
Caesar himself turned to that cross, and placed the emerald to his
eye sluggishly.

Perfect silence followed. The eyes of the spectators were fixed on
Crispus, who strove to move his right hand, as if to tear it from the
tree.

After a while his breast rose, his ribs were visible, and he cried:
"Matricide! woe to thee!"

The Augustians, hearing this mortal insult flung at the lord of the
world in presence of thousands, did not dare to breathe. Chilo was
half dead. Caesar trembled, and dropped the emerald from his
fingers. The people, too, held the breath in their breasts. The voice
of Crispus was heard, as it rose in power, throughout the
amphitheatre, --

"Woe to thee, murderer of wife and brother! woe to thee,
Antichrist. The abyss is opening beneath thee, death is stretching
its hands to thee, the grave is waiting for thee. Woe, living corpse,
for in terror shalt thou die and be damned to eternity!"

Unable to tear his hand from the cross, Crispus strained awfully.
He was terrible,--a living skeleton; unbending as predestination, he
shook his white beard over Nero's podium, scattering, as he
nodded, rose leaves from the garland on his head.

"Woe to thee, murderer! Thy measure is surpassed, and thy hour is
at hand!"

Here he made one more effort. It seemed for a moment that he
would free his hand from the cross and hold it in menace above
Caesar; but all at once his emaciated arms extended still more, his
body settled down, his head fell on his breast, and he died.