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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Hence he rallied; he crushed doubt in himself, he compressed his
whole being into the sentence, "I believe," and he looked for a
miracle.

But as an overdrawn cord may break, so exertion broke him. The
pallor of death covered his face, and his body relaxed. He thought
then that his prayer had been heard, for he was dying. It seemed to
him that Lygia must surely die too, and that Christ would take
them to Himself in that way. The arena, the white togas, the
countless spectators, the light of thousands of lamps and torches,
all vanished from his vision.

But his weakness did not last long. After a while he roused
himself, or rather the stamping of the impatient multitude roused
him.

"Thou art ill," said Petronius; "give command to bear thee home."

And without regard to what Caesar would say, he rose to support
Vinicius and go out with him. His heart was filled with pity, and,
moreover, he was irritated beyond endurance because Caesar was
looking through the emerald at Vinicius, studying his pain with
satisfaction, to describe it afterwards, perhaps, in pathetic strophes,
and win the applause of hearers.

Vinicius shook his head. He might die in that amphitheatre, but he
could not go out of it. Moreover the spectacle might begin any
moment.

In fact, at that very instant almost, the prefect of the city waved a
red handkerchief, the hinges opposite Caesar's podium creaked,
and out of the dark gully came Ursus into the brightly lighted
arena.

The giant blinked, dazed evidently by the glitter of the arena; then
he pushed into the centre, gazing around as if to see what he had to
meet. It was known to all the Augustians and to most of the
spectators that he was the man who had stifled Croton; hence at
sight of him a murmur passed along every bench. In Rome there
was no lack of gladiators larger by far than the common measure
of man, but Roman eyes had never seen the like of Ursus. Cassius,
standing in Caesar's podium, seemed puny compared with that
Lygian. Senators, vestals, Caesar, the Augustians, and the people
gazed with the delight of experts at his mighty limbs as large as
tree-trunks, at his breast as large as two shields joined together,
and his arms of a Hercules. The murmur rose every instant. For
those multitudes there could be no higher pleasure than to look at
those muscles in play in the exertion of a struggle. The murmur
rose to shouts, and eager questions were put: "Where do the people
live who can produce such a giant?" He stood there, in the middle
of the amphitheatre, naked, more like a stone colossus than a man,
with a collected expression, and at the same time the sad look of a
barbarian; and while surveying the empty arena, he gazed
wonderingly with his blue childlike eyes, now at the spectators,
now at Caesar, now at the grating of the cunicula, whence, as he
thought, his executioners would come.

At the moment when he stepped into the arena his simple heart
was beating for the last time with the hope that perhaps a cross
was waiting for him; but when he saw neither the cross nor the
hole in which it might be put, he thought that he was unworthy of
such favor, -- that he would find death in another way, and surely
from wild beasts. He was unarmed, and had determined to die as
became a confessor of the "Lamb," peacefully and patiently.
Meanwhile he wished to pray once more to the Saviour; so he
knelt on the arena, joined his hands, and raised his eyes toward the
stars which were glittering in the lofty opening of the
amphitheatre.

That act displeased the crowds. They had had enough of those
Christians who died like sheep. They understood that if the giant
would not defend himself the spectacle would be a failure. Here
and there hisses were heard. Some began to cry for scourgers,
whose office it was to lash combatants unwilling to fight. But soon
all had grown silent, for no one knew what was waiting for the
giant, nor whether he would aet be rcady to struggle when he met
death eye to eye.

In fact, they had not long to wait. Suddenly the shrill sound of
brazen trumpets was heard, and at that signal a grating opposite
Caesar's podium was opened, and into the arena rushed, amid
shouts of beast-keepers, an enormous German aurochs, bearing on
his head the naked body of a woman.

"Lygia! Lygiaae" cried Vinicius.

Then he seized his hair near the temples, squirmed like a man who
feels a sharp dart in his body, and began to repeat in hoarse
accents, --

"I believe! I believe! O Christ, a miracle!"

And he did not even feel that Petronius covered his head that
moment with the toga. It seemed to him that death or pain had
closed his eyes. He did not look, he did not see. The feeling of
some awful emptiness possessed him. In his head there remained
not a thought; his lips merely repeated, as if in madness, --

"I believe! I believe! I believe!"

This time the amphitheatre was silent. The Augustians rose in their
places, as one man, for in the arena something uncommon had
happened. That Lygian, obedient and ready to die, when he saw his
queen on the horns of the wild beast, sprang up, as if touched by
living fire, and bending forward he ran at the raging animal.

From all breasts a sudden cry of amazement was heard, after which
came deep silence.

The Lygian fell on the raging bull in a twinkle, and seized him by
the horns.

"Look!" cried Petronius, snatching the toga from the head of
Vinicius. The latter rose and bent back his head; his face was as
pale as linen, and he looked into the arena with a glassy, vacant
stare.

All breasts ceased to breathe. In the amphitheatre a fly might be
heard on the wing. People could not believe their own eyes. Since
Rome was Rome, no one had seen such a spectacle.

The Lygian held the wild beast by the horns. The man's feet sank
in the sand to his ankles, his back was bent like a drawn bow, his
head was hidden between his shoulders, on his arms the muscles
came out so that the skin almost burst from their pressure; but he
had stopped the bull in his tracks. And the man and the beast
remained so still that the spectators thought themselves looking at
a picture showing a deed of Hercules or Theseus, or a group hewn
from stone. But in that apparent repose there was a tremendous
exertion of two struggling forces. The bull sank his feet as well as
did the man in the sand, and his dark, shaggy body was curved so
that it seemed a gigantic ball. Which of the two would fail first,
which would fall first, -- that was the question for those spectators
enamoured of such struggles; a question which at that moment
meant more for them than their own fate, than all Rome and its
lordship over the world. That Lygian was in their eyes then a
demigod worthy of honor and statues. Caesar himself stood up as
well as others. He and Tigellinus, hearing of the man's strength,
had arranged this spectacle purposely, and said to each other with
a jeer, "Let that slayer of Croton kill the bull which we choose for
him"; so they looked now with amazement at that picture, as if not
believing that it could be real.

In the amphitheatre were men who had raised their arms and
remained in that posture. Sweat covered the faces of others, as if
they themselves were struggling with the beast. In the Circus
nothing was heard save the sound of flame in the lamps, and the
crackle of bits of coal as they dropped from the torches. Their
voices died on the lips of the spectators, but their hearts were
beating in their breasts as if to split them. It seemed to all that the
struggle was lasting for ages. But the man and the beast continued
on in their monstrous exertion; one might have said that they were
planted in the earth.

Meanwhile a dull roar resembling a groan was heard from the
arena, after which a brief shout was wrested from every breast, and
again there was silence. People thought themselves dreaming till
the enormous head of the bull began to turn in the iron hands of
the barbarian. The face, neck, and arms of the Lygian grew purple;
his back bent still more. It was clear that he was rallying the
remnant of his superhuman strength, but that he could not last
long.

Duller and duller, hoarser and hoarser, more and more painful
grew the groan of the bull as it mingled with the whistling breath
from the breast of the giant. The head of the beast turned more and
more, and from his jaws crept forth a long, foaming tongue.

A moment more, and to the ears of spectators sitting nearer came
as it were the crack of breaking bones; then the beast rolled on the
earth with his neck twisted in death.

The giant removed in a twinkle the ropes from the horns of the
bull and, raising the maiden, began to breathe hurriedly. His face
became pale, his hair stuck together from sweat, his shoulders and
arms seemed flooded with water. For a moment he stood as if only
half conscious; then he raised his eyes and looked at the spectators.

The amphitheatre had gone wild.

The walls of the building were trembling from the roar of tens of
thousands of people. Since the beginning of spectacles there was
no memory of such excitement. Those who were sitting on the
highest rows came down, crowding in the passages between
benches to look more nearly at the strong man. Everywhere were
heard cries for mercy, passionate and persistent, which soon turned
into one unbroken thunder. That giant had become dear to those
people enamoured of physical strength; he was the first personage
in Rome.

He understood that the multitude were striving to grant him his life
and restore him his freedom, but clearly his thought was not on
himself alone. He looked around a while; then approached
Caesar's podium, and, holding the body of the maiden on his
outstretched arms, raised his eyes with entreaty, as if to say,

"Have mercy on her! Save the maiden. I did that for her sake!"

The spectators understood perfectly what he wanted. At sight of
the unconscious maiden, who near the enormous Lygian seemed a
child, emotion seized the multitude of knights and senators. Her
slender form, as white as if chiselled from alabaster, her fainting,
the dreadful danger from which the giant had freed her, and finally
her beauty and attachment had moved every heart. Some thought
the man a father begging mercy for his child. Pity burst forth
suddenly, like a flame. They had had blood, death, and torture in
sufficiency. Voices choked with tears began to entreat mercy for
both.

Meanwhile Ursus, holding the girl in his arms, moved around the
arena, and with his eyes and with motions begged her life for her.
Now Vinicius started up from his seat, sprang over the barrier
which separated the front places from the arena, and, running to
Lygia, covered her naked body with his toga.

Then he tore apart the tunic on his breast, laid bare the scars left by
wounds received in the Armenian war, and stretched out his hands
to the audience.

At this the enthusiasm of the multitude passed everything seen in a
circus before. The crowd stamped and howled. Voices calling for
mercy grew simply terrible. People not only took the part of the
athlete, but rose in defense of the soldier, the maiden, their love.
Thousands of spectators turned to Caesar with flashes of anger in
their eyes and with clinched fists.

But Caesar halted and hesitated. Against Vinicius he had no hatred
indeed, and the death of Lygia did not concern him; but he
preferred to see the body of the maiden rent by the horns of the
bull or torn by the claws of beasts. His cruelty, his deformed
imagination, and deformed desires found a kind of delight in such
spectacles. And now tile people wanted to rob him. Hence anger
appeared on his bloated face. Self-love also would not let him
yield to the wish of the multitude, and still he did not dare to
oppose it, through his inborn cowardice.

So he gazed around to see if among the Augustians at least, he
could not find fingers turned down in sign of death. But Petronius
held up his hand, and looked into Nero's face almost challengingly.
Vestinius, superstitious but inclined to enthusiasm, a man who
feared ghosts but not the living, gave a sign for mercy also. So did
Scevinus, the Senator; so did Nerva, so did Tullius Senecio, so did
the famous leader Ostorius Scapula, and Antistius, and Piso, and
Vetus, and Crispinus, and Minucius Thermus, and Pontius
Telesinus, and the most important of all, one honored by the
people, Thrasea.

In view of this, Caesar took the emerald from his eye with an
expression of contempt and offence; when Tigellinus, whose
desire was to spite Petronius, turned to him and said, --

"Yield not, divinity; we have the pretorians."

Then Nero turned to the place where command over the pretorians
was held by the stern Subrius Flavius, hitherto devoted with whole
soul to him, and saw something unusual. The face of the old
tribune was stern, but covered with tears, and he was holding his
hand up in sign of mercy.

Now rage began to possess the multitude. Dust rose from beneath
the stamping feet, and filled the amphitheatre. In the midst of
shouts were heard cries: "Ahenobarbus! matricide! incendiary!"

Nero was alarmed. Romans were absolute lords in the Circus.
Former Caesars, and especially Caligula, had permitted themselves
sometimes to act against the will of the people; this, however,
called forth disturbance always, going sometimes to bloodshed.
But Nero was in a different position. First, as a comedian and a
singer he needed the people's favor; second, he wanted it on his
side against the Senate and the patricians, and especially after the
burning of Rome he strove by all means to win it, and turn their
anger against the Christians. He understood, besides, that to
oppose longer was simply dangerous. A disturbance begun in the
Circus might seize the whole city, and have results incalculable.

He looked once more at Subrius Flavius, at Scevinus the centurion,
a relative of the senator, at the soldiers; and seeing everywhere
frowning brows, excited faces, and eyes fixed on him, he gave the
sign for mercy.

Then a thunder of applause was heard from the highest seats to the
lowest. The people were sure of the lives of the condemned, for
from that moment they went under their protection, and even
Caesar would not have dared to pursue them any longer with his
vengeance.

Chapter LXVI

FOUR Bithynians carried Lygia carefully to the house of
Petronius. Vinicius and Ursus walked at her side, hurrying so as to
give her into the hands of the Greek physician as quickly as
possible. They walked in silence, for after the events of the day
they had not power to speak. Vinicius so far was as if half
conscious. He kept repeating to himself that Lygia was saved; that
she was threatened no longer by imprisonment, or death in the
Circus; that their misfortunes had ended once and forever; that he
would take her home and not separate again from her. This
appeared to him the beginning of some other life rather than
reality. From moment to moment he bent over the open litter to
look on the beloved face, which in the moonlight seemed sleeping,
and he repeated mentally, "This is she! Christ has saved her!" He
remembered also that while he and Ursus were carrying her from
the spoliarium an unknown physician had assured him that she was
living and would recover. At this thought delight so filled his
breast that at moments he grew weak, and being unable to walk
with his own strength leaned on the arm of Ursus. Ursus
meanwhile was looking into the sky filled with stars, and was
praying.

They advanced hurriedly along streets where newly erected white
buildings shone brightly in the moonlight. The city was empty,
save here and there where crowds of people crowned with ivy,
sang and danced before porticos to the sound of flutes, thus taking
advantage of the wonderful night and the festive season, unbroken
from the beginning of the games. Only when they were near the
house did Ursus stop praying, and say in a low voice, as if he
feared to waken Lygia, --

"Lord, it was the Saviour who rescued her from death. When I saw
her on the horns of the aurochs, I heard a voice in my soul saying,
'Defend her!' and that was the voice of the Lamb. The prison took
strength from me, but He gave it back in that moment, and inspired
that cruel people to take her part. Let His will be done!"

And Vinicius answered, --

"Magnified be His name!"

He had not power to continue, for all at once he felt that a mighty
weeping was swelling his breast. He was seized by an
overpowering wish to throw himself on the earth and thank the
Saviour for His miracles and His mercy.

Meanwhile they had come to the house; the servants, informed by
a slave despatched in advance, crowded out to meet them. Paul of
Tarsus had sent back from Antium the greater part of those people.
The misfortune of Vincius was known to them perfectly; therefore
their delight at seeing those victims which had been snatched from
the malice of Nero was immense, and increased still more when
the physician Theocles declared that Lygia had not suffered serious
injury, and that when the weakness caused by prison fever had
passed, she would regain health.

Consciousness returned to her that night. Waking in the splendid
chamber lighted by Corinthian lamps, amidst the odor of verbena
and nard, she knew not where she was, or what was taking place
with her. She remembered the moment in which she had been
lashed to the horns of the chained bull; and now, seeing above her
the face of Vinicius, lighted by the mild rays of the lamp, she
supposed herself no longer on earth. The thoughts were confused
in her weakened head; it seemed to her natural to be detained
somewhere on the way to heaven, because of her tortures and
weakness. Feeling no pain, however, she smiled at Vinicius, and
wanted to ask where they were; but from her lips came merely a
low whisper in which he could barely detect his own name.

Then he knelt near her, and, placing his hand on her forehead
lightly, he said,--

"Christ saved thee, and returned thee to me!"

Her lips moved again with a meaningless whisper; her lids closed
after a moment, her breast rose with a light sigh, and she fell into a
deep sleep, for which the physician had been waiting, and after
which she would return to health, he said.

Vinicius remained kneeling near her, however, sunk in prayer. His
soul was melting with a love so immense that he forgot himself
utterly. Theocles returned often to the chamber, and the
golden-haired Eunice appeared behind the raised curtain a number
of times; finally cranes, reared in the gardens, began to call,
heralding the coming day, but Vinicius was still embracing in his
mind the feet of Christ, neither seeing nor hearing what was
passing around him, with a heart turned into a thanksgiving,
sacrificial flame, sunk in ecstasy, and though alive, half seized into
heaven.

Chapter LXVII

PETRONIUS, after the liberation of Lygia, not wishing to irritate
Caesar, went to the Palatine with other Augustians. He wanted to
hear what they were saying, and especially to learn if Tigellinus
was devising something new to destroy Lygia. Both she and Ursus
had passed under the protection of the people, it is true, and no one
could place a hand on them without raising a riot; still Petronius,
knowing the hatred toward him of the all-powerful prctorian
prefect, considered that very likely Tigellinus, while unable to
strike him directly, would strive to find some means of revenge
against his nephew.

Nero was angry and irritated, since the spectacle had ended quite
differently from what he had planned. At first he did not wish even
to look at Petronius; but the latter, without losing cool blood,
approached him, with all the freedom of the "arbiter
elegantiarum," and said, --

"Dost thou know, divinity, what occurs to me? Write a poem on
the maiden who, at command of the lord of the world, was freed
from the horns of the wild bull and given to her lover. The Greeks
are sensitive, and I am sure that the poem will enchant them."

This thought pleased Nero in spite of all his irritation, and it
pleased him doubly, first, as a subject for a poem, and second,
because in it he could glorify himself as the magnanimous lord of
the earth; hence he looked for a time at Petronius, and then said, --

"Yes! perhaps thou art right. But does it become me to celebrate
my own goodness?"

"There is no need to give names. In Rome all will know who is
meant, and from Rome reports go through the whole world."

"But art thou sure that this will please the people in Achaea?"

"By Poilux, it will!" said Petronius.

And he went away satisfied, for he felt certain that Nero, whose
whole life was an arrangement of reality to literary plans, would
not spoil the subject, and by this alone he would tie the hands of
Tigellinus. This, however, did not change his plan of sending
Vinicius out of Rome as soon as Lygia's health should permit. So
when he saw him next day, he said, --

"Take her to Sicily. As things have happened, on Caesar's part thou
art threatened by nothing; but Tigellinus is ready to use even
poison.-- if not out of hatred to you both, out of hatred to me."

Vinicius smiled at him, and said: "She was on the horns of the wild
bull; still Christ saved her."

"Then honor Him with a hecatomb," replied Paetronius, with an
accent of impatience, "but do not beg Him to save her a second
time. Dost remember how Eolus received Ulysses when he
returned to ask a second time for favoring winds? Deities do not
like to repeat themselves."

"When her health returns, I will take her to Pomponia Graecina,"
said Vinicius.

"And thou wilt do that all the better since Pomponia is in;
Antistius, a relative of Aulus, told me so. Meanwhile things will
happen here to make people forget thee, and in these times the
forgotten are the happiest. May Fortune be thy sun in winter, and
thy shade in summer."

Then he left Vinicius to his happiness, but went himself to inquire
of Theocles touching the life and health of Lygia.

Danger threatened her no longer. Emaciated as she was in the
dungeon after prison fever, foul air and discomfort would have
killed her; but now she had the most tender care, and not only
plenty, but luxury. At command of Theocles they took her to the
gardens of the villa after two days; in these gardens she remained
for hours. Vinicius decked her litter with anemones, and especially
with irises, to remind her of the atrium of the house of Aulus.
More than once, hidden in the shade of spreading trees, they spoke
of past sufferings and fears, each holding the other's hand. Lygia
said that Christ had conducted him through suffering purposely to
change his soul and raise it to Himself. Vinicius felt that this was
true, and that there was in him nothing of the former patrician,
who knew no law but his own desire. In those memories there was
nothing bitter, however. It seemed to both that whole years had
gone over their heads, and that the dreadful past lay far behind. At
the same time such a calmness possessed them as they had never
known before. A new life of immense happiness had come and
taken them into itself. In Rome Caesar might rage and fill the
world with terror -- they felt above them a guardianship a hundred
times mightier than his power, and had no further fear of his rage
or his malice, just as if for them he had ceased to be the lord of life
or death. Once, about sunset, the roar of lions and other beasts
reached them from distant vivaria. Formerly those sounds filled
Vinicius with fear because they were ominous; now he and Lygia
merely looked at each other and raised their eyes to the evening
twilight. At times Lygia, still very weak and unable to walk alone,
fell asleep in the quiet of the garden; he watched over her, and,
looking at her sleeping face, thought involuntarily that she was not
that Lygia whom he had met at the house of Aulus. In fact,
imprisonment and disease had to some extent quenched her
beauty. When he saw her at the house of Aulus, and later, when he
went to Miriam's house to seize her, she was as wonderful as a
statue and also as a flower; now her face had become almost
transparent, her hands thin, her body reduced by disease, her lips
pale, and even her eyes seemed less blue than formerly. The
golden-haired Eunice who brought her flowers and rich stuffs to
cover her feet was a divinity of Cyprus in comparison. Petronius
tried in vain to find the former charms in her, and, shrugging his
shoulders, thought that that shadow from Elysian fields was not
worth those struggles, those pains, and those tortures which had
almost sucked the life out of Vinicius. But Vinicius, in love now
with her spirit, loved it all the more; and when he was watching
over her while asleep, it seemed to him that he was watching over
the whole world.

Chapter LXVIII

NEWS of the miraculous rescue of Lygia was circulated quickly
among those scattered Christians who had escaped destruction.
Confessors came to look at her to whom Christ's favor had been
shown clearly. First came Nazarius and Miriam, with whom Peter
the Apostle was hiding thus far; after them came others. All, as
well as Vinicius, Lygia, and the Christian slaves of Petronius,
listened with attention to the narrative of Ursus about the voice
which he had heard in his soul, and which commanded him to
struggle with the wild bull. All went away consoled, hoping that
Christ would not let His followers be exterminated on earth before
His coming at the day of judgment. And hope sustained their
hearts, for persecution had not ceased yet. Whoever was declared a
Christian by public report was thrown into prison at once by the
city watches. It is true that the victims were fewer, for the majority
of confessors had been seized and tortured to death. The Christians
who remained had either left Rome to wait out the storm in distant
provinces, or had hidden most carefully, not daring to assemble in
common prayer, unless in sand-pits outside the city. They were
persecuted yet, however, and though the games were at an end, the
newly arrested were reserved for future games or punished
specially. Though it was believed in Rome no longer that
Christians had caused the conflagration, they were declared
enemies of humanity and the State, and the edict against them
remained in former force.