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 Vinicius, as a man more concerned with reality than with
treatises on virtue, replied, -- "To-morrow I shall see Lygia, and
then have her in my house daily, always, and till death."

"Thou wilt have Lygia, and I shall have Aulus on my head. He will
summon the vengeance of all the infernal gods against me. And if
the beast would take at least a preliminary lesson in good
declamation! He will blame me, however, as my former
doorkeeper blamed my clients but him I sent to prison in the
country."

"Aulus has been at my house. I promised to give him news of
Lygia."

"Write to him that the will of the 'divine' Caesar is the highest law,
and that thy first son will bear the name Aulus. It is necessary that
the old man should have some consolation. I am ready to pray
Bronzebeard to invite him to-morrow to the feast. Let him see thee
in the triclinium next to Lygia."

"Do not do that. I am sorry for them, especially for Pomponia."

And he sat down to write that letter which took from the old
general the remnant of his hope.

Chapter VII

ONCE the highest heads in Rome inclined before Acre, the former
favorite of Nero. But even at that period she showed no desire to
interfere in public questions, and if on any occasion she used her
influence over the young ruler, it was only to implore mercy for
some one. Quiet and unassuming, she won the gratitude of many,
and made no one her enemy. Even Octavia was unable to hate her.
To those who envied her she seemed exceedingly harmless. It was
known that she continued to love Nero with a sad and pained love,
which lived not in hope, but only in memories of the time in which
that Nero was not only younger and loving, but better. It was
known that she could not tear her thoughts and soul from those
memories, but expected nothing; since there was no real fear that
Nero would return to her, she was looked upon as a person wholly
inoffensive, and hence was left in peace. Poppaea considered her
merely as a quiet servant, so harmless that she did not even try to
drive her from the palace.

But since Caesar had loved her once and dropped her without
offence in a quiet and to some extent friendly manner, a certain
respect was retained for her. Nero, when he had freed her, let her
live in the palace, and gave her special apartments with a few
servants. And as in their time Pallas and Narcissus, though
freedmen of Claudius, not only sat at feasts with Claudius, but also
held places of honor as powerful ministers, so she too was invited
at times to Caesar's table. This was done perhaps because her
beautiful form was a real ornament to a feast. Caesar for that
matter had long since ceased to count with any appearances in his
choice of company. At his table the most varied medley of people
of every position and calling found places. Among them were
senators, but mainly those who were content to be jesters as well.
There were patricians, old and young, eager for luxury, excess, and
enjoyment. There were women with great names, who did not
hesitate to put on a yellow wig of an evening and seek adventures
on dark streets for amusement's sake. There were also high
officials, and priests who at full goblets were willing to jeer at
their own gods. At the side of these was a rabble of every sort:
singers, mimes, musicians, dancers of both sexes; poets who,
while declaiming, were thinking of the sesterces which might fall
to them for praise of Caesar's verses; hungry philosophers
following the dishes with eager eyes; finally, noted charioteers,
tricksters, miracle-wrights, tale-tellers, jesters, and the most varied
adventurers brought through fashion or folly to a few days'
notoriety. Among these were not lacking even men who covered
with long hair their ears pierced in sign of slavery.

The most noted sat directly at the tables; the lesser served to
amuse in time of eating, and waited for the moment in which the
servants would permit them to rush at the remnants of food and
drink. Guests of this sort were furnished by Tigellinus, Vatinius,
and Vitelius; for these guests they were forced more than once to
find clothing befitting the chambers of Caesar, who, however,
liked their society, through feeling most free in it. The luxury of
the court gilded everything, and covered all things with glitter.
High and low, the descendants of great families, and the needy
from the pavements of the city, great artists, and vile scrapings of
talent, thronged to the palace to sate their dazzled eyes with a
splendor almost surpassing human estimate, and to approach the
giver of every favor, wealth, and property, -- whose single glance
might abase, it is true, but might also exalt beyond measure.

That day Lygia too had to take part in such a feast. Fear,
uncertainty, and a dazed feeling, not to be wondered at after the
sudden change, were struggling in her with a wish to resist. She
feared Nero; she feared the people and the palace whose uproar
deprived her of presence of mind; she feared the feasts of whose
shamelessness she had heard from Aulus, Pomponia Graecina, and
their friends. Though young, she was not without knowledge, for
knowledge of evil in those times reached even children's ears
early. She knew, therefore, that ruin was threatening her in the
palace. Pomponia, moreover, had warned her of this at the moment
of parting. But having a youthful spirit, unacquainted with
corruption, and confessing a lofty faith, implanted in her by her
foster mother, she had promised to defend herself against that ruin;
she had promised her mother, herself and also that Divine Teacher
in whom she not only believed, but whom she had come to love
with her half-childlike heart for the sweetness of his doctrine, the
bitterness of his death, and the glory of his resurrection.

She was confident too that now neither Aulus nor Pomponia would
be answerable for her actions; she was thinking therefore whether
it would not be better to resist and not go to the feast. On the one
hand fear and alarm spoke audibly in her soul; on the other the
wish rose in her to show courage in suffering, in exposure to
torture and death. The Divine Teacher had cormmanded to act
thus. He had given the example himself. Pomponia had told her
that the most earnest among the adherents desire with all their
souls such a test, and pray for it. And Lygia, when still in the house
of Aulus, had been mastered at moments by a similar desire. She
had seen herself as a martyr, with wounds on her feet and hands,
white as snow, beautiful with a beauty not of earth, and borne by
equally white angels into the azure sky; and her imagination
admired such a vision. There was in it much childish brooding, but
there was in it also something of delight in herself, which
Pomponia had reprimanded. But now, when opposition to Caesar's
will might draw after it some terrible punishment, and the
martyrdom scene of imagination become a reality, there was added
to the beautiful visions and to the delight a kind of curiosity
mingled with dread, as to how they would punish her, and what
kind of torments they would provide. And her soul, half childish
yet, was hesitating on two sides. But Acte, hearing of these
hesitations, looked at her with astonishment as if the maiden were
talking in a fever. To oppose Caesar's will, expose oneself from
the first moment to his anger? To act thus one would need to be a
child that knows not what it says. From Lygia's own words it
appears that she is, properly speaking, not really a hostage, but a
maiden forgotten by her own people. No law of nations protects
her; and even if it did, Caesar is powerful enough to trample on it
in a moment of anger. It has pleased Caesar to take her, and he
will dispose of her. Thenceforth she is at his will, above which
there is not another on earth.

"So it is," continued Acte. "I too have read the letters of Paul of
Tarsus, and I know that above the earth is God, and the Son of
God, who rose from the dead; but on the earth there is only Caesar.
Think of this, Lygia. I know too that thy doctrine does not permit
thee to be what I was, and that to you as to the Stoics, -- of whom
Epictetus has told me, -- when it comes to a choice between shame
and death, it is permitted to choose only death. But canst thou say
that death awaits thee and not shame too? Hast thou heard of the
daughter of Sej anus, a young maiden, who at command of
Tiberius had to pass through shame before her death, so as to
respect a law which prohibits the punishment of virgins with
death? Lygia, Lygia, do not irritate Caesar. If the decisive moment
comes when thou must choose between disgrace and death, thou
wilt act as thy faith commands; but seek not destruction thyself,
and do not irritate for a trivial cause an earthly and at the same
time a cruel divinity."

Acte spoke with great compassion, and even with enthusiasm; and
being a little short-sighted, she pushed her sweet face up to Lygia's
as if wishing to see surely the effect of her words.

But Lygia threw her arms around Acte's neck with childish
trustfulness and said, -- "Thou art kind, Acte."

Acte, pleased by the praise and confidence, pressed her to her
heart; and then disengaging herself from the arms of the maiden,
answered, -- "My happiness has passed and my joy is gone, but I
am not wicked." Then she began to walk with quick steps through
the room and to speak to herself, as if in despair.

"No! And he was not wicked. He thought himself good at that
time, and he wished to be good. I know that best. All his change
came later, when he ceased to love. Others made him what he is --
yes, others -- and Poppae."

Here her eyelids filled with tears. Lygia followed her for some
time with her blue eyes, and asked at last, -- "Art thou sorry for
him, Acre?" "I am sorry for him!" answered the Grecian, with a
low voice. And again she began to walk, her hands clinched as if
in pain, and her face without hope.

"Dost thou love him yet, Acte?" asked Lygia, timidly.

"I love him."

And after a while she added, -- "No one loves him but me."

Silence followed, during which Acte strove to recover her
calmness, disturbed by memories; and when at length her face
resumed its usual look of calm sorrow, she said, --

"Let us speak of thee, Lygia. Do not even think of opposing
Caesar; that would be madness. And be calm. I know this house
well, and I judge that on Caesar's part nothing threatens thee. If
Nero had given command to take thee away for himself, he would
not have brought thee to the Palatine. Here Poppaea rules; and
Nero, since she bore him a daughter, is more than ever under her
influence. No, Nero gave command, it is true, that thou shouldst be
at the feast, but he has not seen thee yet; he has not inquired about
thee, hence he does not care about thee. Maybe he took thee from
Aulus and Pomponia only through anger at them. Petronius wrote
me to have care of thee; and since Pomponia too wrote, as thou
knowest, maybe they had an understanding. Maybe he did that at
her request. If this be true, if he at the request of Pomponia will
occupy himself with thee, nothing threatens thee; and who knows
if Nero may not send thee back to Aulus at his persuasion? I know
not whether Nero loves him over much, but I know that rarely has
he the courage to be of an opinion opposite to his."

"Ah, Acte!" answered Lygia; "Petronius was with us before they
took me, and my mother was convinced that Nero demanded my
surrender at his instigation."

"That would be bad," said Acte. But she stopped for a while, and
then said, -- "Perhaps Petronius only said, in Nero's presence at
some supper, that he saw a hostage of the Lygians at Aulus's, and
Nero, who is jealous of his own power, demanded thee only
because hostages belong to Caesar. But he does not like Aulus and
Pomponia. No! it does not seem to me that if Petronius wished to
take thee from Aulus he would use such a method. I do not know
whether Petronius is better than others of Caesar's court, but he is
different. Maybe too thou wilt find some one else who would be
willing to intercede for thee. Hast thou not seen at Aulus's some
one who is near Caesar?"

"I have seen Vespasian and Titus."

"Caesar does not like them."

"And Seneca."

"If Seneca advised something, that would be enough to make Nero
act otherwise."

The bright face of Lygia was covered with a blush. "And
Vinicius--"

"I do not know him."

"He is a relative of Petronius, and returned not long since from
Armenia."

"Dost thou think that Nero likes him?"

"All like Vinicius."

"And would he intercede for thee?"

"He would."

Acte smiled tenderly, and said, "Then thou wilt see him surely at
the feast. Thou must be there, first, because thou must, -- only such
a child as thou could think otherwise. Second, if thou wish to
return to the house of Aulus, thou wilt find means of beseeching
Petronius and Vinicius to gain for thee by their influence the right
to return. If they were here, both would tell thee as I do, that it
would be madness and ruin to try resistance. Caesar might not
notice thy absence, it is true; but if he noticed it and thought that
thou hadst the daring to oppose his will, here would be no
salvation for thee. Go, Lygia! Dost thou hear the noise in the
palace? The sun is near setting; guests will begin to arrive soon."

"Thou art right," answered Lygia, "and I will follow thy advice."

How much desire to see Vinicius and Petronius there was in this
resolve, how much of woman's curiosity there was to see such a
feast once in life, and to see at it Caesar, the court, the renowned
Poppaea and other beauties, and all that unheard-of splendor, of
which wonders were narrated in Rome, Lygia could not give
account to herself of a certainty. But Acte was right, and Lygia felt
this distinctly. There was need to go; therefore, when necessity and
simple reason supported the hidden temptation, she ceased to
hesitate.

Acre conducted her to her own unctorium to anoint and dress her;
and though there was no lack of slave women in Caesar's house,
and Acte had enough of them for her personal service, still,
through sympathy for the maiden whose beauty and innocence had
caught her heart, she resolved to dress her herself. It became clear
at once that in the young Grecian, in spite of her sadness and her
perusal of the letters of Paul of Tarsus, there was yet much of the
ancient Hellenic spirit, to which physical beauty spoke with more
eloquence than aught else on earth. When she had undressed
Lygia, she could not restrain an exclamation of wonder at sight of
her form, at once slender and full, created, as it were, from pearl
and roses; and stepping back a few paces, she looked with delight
on that matchless, spring-like form.

"Lygia," exclaimed she at last, "thou art a hundred times more
beautiful than Poppaea!"

But, reared in the strict house of Pomponia, where modesty was
observed, even when women were by themselves, the maiden,
wonderful as a wonderful dream, harmonious as a work of
Praxiteles or as a song, stood alarmed, blushing from modesty,
with knees pressed together, with her hands on her bosom, and
downcast eyes. At last, raising her arms with sudden movement,
she removed the pins which held her hair, and in one moment,
with one shake of her head, she covered herself with it as with a
mantle.

Acte, approaching her and touching her dark tresses, said, --

"Oh, what hair thou hast! I will not sprinkle golden powder on it; it
gleams of itself in one place and another with gold, where it
waves. I will add, perhaps, barely a sprinkle here and there; but
lightly, lightly, as if a sun ray had freshened it. Wonderful must thy
Lygian country be where such maidens are born!

"I do not remember it," answered Lygia; "but Ursus has told me
that with us it is forests, forests, and forests."

"But flowers bloom in those forests," said Acte, dipping her hand
in a vase filled with verbena, and moistening Lygia's hair with it.
When she had finished this work, Acre anointed her body lightly
with odoriferous oils from Arabia, and then dressed her in a soft
gold-colored tunic without sleeves, over which was to be put a
snow-white peplus. But since she had to dress Lygia's hair first, she
put on her meanwhile a kind of roomy dress called synthesis, and,
seating her in an armchair, gave her for a time into the hands of
slave women, so as to stand at a distance herself and follow the
hairdressing. Two other slave women put on Lygia's feet white
sandals, embroidered with purple, fastening them to her alabaster
ankles with golden lacings drawn crosswise. When at last the
hair-dressing was finished, they put a peplus on her in very
beautiful, light folds; then Acte fastened pearls to her neck, and
touching her hair at the folds with gold dust, gave command to the
women to dress her, following Lygia with delighted eyes
meanwhile.

But she was ready soon; and when the first litters began to appear
before the main gate, both entered the side portico from which
were visible the chief entrance, the interior galleries, and the
courtyard surrounded by a colonnade of Numidian marble.

Gradually people passed in greater and greater numbers under the
lofty arch of the entrance, over which the splendid quadrig~ of
Lysias seemed to bear Apollo and Diana into space. Lygia's eyes
were struck by that magnificence, of which the modest house of
Aulus could not have given her the slightest idea. It was sunset; the
last rays were falling on the yellow Numidian marble of the
columns, which shone like gold in those gleams and changed into
rose color also. Among the columns, at the side of white statues of
the Danaides and others, representing gods or heroes, crowds of
people flowed past, -- men and women; resembling statues also,
for they were draped in togas, pepluses, and robes, falling with
grace and beauty toward the earth in soft folds, on which the rays
of the setting sun were expiring. A gigantic Hercules, with head in
the light yet, from the breast down sunk in shadow cast by the
columns, looked from above on that throng. Acte showed Lygia
senators in wide-bordered togas, in colored tunics, in sandals with
crescents on them, and knights, and famed artists; she showed her
Roman ladies, in Roman, in Grecian, in fantastic Oriental
costume, with hair dressed in towers or pyramids, or dressed like
that of the statues of goddesses, low on the head, and adorned with
flowers. Many men and women did Acte call by name, adding to
their names histories, brief and sometimes terrible, which pierced
Lygia with fear, amazement, and wonder. For her this was a
strange world, whose beauty intoxicated her eyes, but whose
contrasts her girlish understanding could not grasp. In those
twilights of the sky, in those rows of motionless columns vanishing
in the distance, and in those statuesque people, there was a certain
lofty repose. It seemed that in the midst of those marbles of simple
lines demigods might live free of care, at peace and in happiness.
Meanwhile the low voice of Acte disclosed, time after time, a new
and dreadful secret of that palace and those people. See, there at a
distance is the covered portico on whose columns and floor are
still visible red stains from the blood with which Caligula
sprinkled the white marble when he fell beneath the knife of
Cassius Chaerea; there his wife was slain; there his child was
dashed against a stone; under that wing is the dungeon in which
the younger Drusus gnawed his hands from hunger; there the elder
Drusus was poisoned; there Gemellus quivered in terror, and
Claudius in convulsions; there Germanicus suffered, -- everywhere
those walls had heard the groans and death-rattle of the dying; and
those people~ hurrying now to the feast in togas, in colored tunics,
in flowers, and in jewels, may be the condemned of to-morrow; on
more than one face, perhaps, a smile conceals terror, alarm, the
uncertainty of the next day; perhaps feverishness, greed, envy are
gnawing at this moment into the hearts of those crowned
demigods, who in appearance are free of care. Lygia's frightened
thoughts could not keep pace with Acte's words; and when that
wonderful world attracted her eyes with increasing force, her heart
contracted within her from fear, and in her soul she struggled with
an immense, inexpressible yearning for the beloved Pomponia
Graecina, and the calm house of Aulus, in which love, and not
crime, was the ruling power.

Meanwhile new waves of guests were flowing in from the Vicus
Apollinis. From beyond the gates came the uproar and shouts of
clients, escorting their patrons. The courtyard and the colonnades
were swarming with the multitude of Caesar's slaves, of both
sexes, small boys, and pretorian soldiers, who kept guard in the
palace. Here and there among dark or swarthy visages was the
black face of a Numidian, in a feathered helmet, and with large
gold rings in his ears. Some were bearing lutes and citharas, hand
lamps of gold, silver, and bronze, and bunches of flowers, reared
artificially despite the late autumn season. Louder and louder the
sound of conversation was mingled with the plashing of the
fountain, the rosy streams of which fell from above on the marble
and were broken, as if in sobs.

Acte had stopped her narration; but Lygia gazed at the throng, as if
searching for some one. All at once her face was covered with a
blush, and from among the columns came forth Vinicius with
Petronius. They went to the great triclinium, beautiful, calm, like
white gods, in their togas. It seemed to Lygia, when she saw those
two known and friendly faces among strange people, and
especially when she saw Vinicius, that a great weight had fallen
from her heart. She felt less alone. That measureless yearning for
Pomponia and the house of Aulus, which had broken out in her a
little while before, ceased at once to be painful. The desire to see
Vinicius and to talk with him drowned in her other voices. In vain
did she remember all the evil which she had heard of the house of
Caesar, the words of Acte, the warnings of Pornponia; in spite of
those words and warnings, she felt all at once that not only must
she be at that feast, but that she wished to be there. At the thought
that soon she would hear that dear and pleasant voice, which had
spoken of love to her and of happiness worthy of the gods, and
which was sounding like a song in her ears yet, delight seized her
straightway.

But the next moment she feared that delight. It seemed to her that
she would be false to the pure teaching in which she had been
reared, false to Pomponia, and false to herself. It is one thing to go
by constraint, and another to delight in such a necessity. She felt
guilty, unworthy, and ruined.

Despair swept her away, and she wanted to weep. Had she been
alone, she would have knelt down and beaten her breast, saying,
"Mea culpa! mea culpa!" Acte, taking her hand at that moment, led
her through the interior apartments to the grand triclinium, where
the feast was to be. Darkness was in her eyes, and a roaring in her
ears from internal emotion; the beating of her heart stopped her
breath. As in a dream, she saw thousands of lamps gleaming on the
tables and on the walls; as in a dream, she heard the shout with
which the guests greeted Caesar; as through a mist, she saw Caesar
himself. The shout deafened her, the glitter dazzled, the odors
intoxicated; and, losing the remnant of her consciousness, she was
barely able to recognize Acte, who seated her at the table and took
a place at her side.

But after a while a low and known voice was heard at the other
side, -- "A greeting, most beautiful of maidens on earth and of stars
in heaven.

A greeting to thee, divine Callina!"

Lygia, having recovered somewhat, looked up; at her side was
Vinicius. He was without a toga, for convenience and custom had
enjoined to cast aside the toga at feasts. His body was covered with
only a sleeveless scarlet tunic embroidered in silver palms. His
bare arms were ornamented in Eastern fashion with two broad
golden bands fastened above the elbow; below they were carefully
stripped of hair. They were smooth, but too muscular, -- real arms
of a soldier, they were made for the sword and the shield. On his
head was a garland of roses. With brows joining above the nose,
with splendid eyes and a dark complexion, he was the
impersonation of youth and strength, as it were. To Lygia he
seemed so beautiful that though her first amazement had passed,
she was barely able to answer, -- "A greeting, Marcus."

"Happy," said he, "are my eyes, which see thee; happy my ears,
which hear thy voice, dearer to me than the sound of lutes or
citharas. Were it commanded me to choose who was to rest here
by my side at this feast, thou, Lygia, or Venus, I would choose
thee, divine one!"

And he looked at the maiden as if he wished to sate himself with
the sight of her, to burn her eyes with his eyes. His glance slipped
from her face to her neck and bare arms, fondled her shapely
outlines, admired her, embraced her, devoured her; but besides
desire, there was gleaming in him happiness, admiration, and
ecstasy beyond limit.