The slave disappeared behind the curtain; a moment later heavy steps were heard, and an acquaintance of Petronius appeared, the centurion Aper, armed, and with an iron helmet on his head.

  “Noble lord,” said he, “here is a letter from Cæsar.”

  Petronius extended his white hand lazily, took the tablet, and, casting his eye over it, gave it, in all calmness to Eunice.

  “He will read a new book of the Troyad this evening, and invites me to come.’

  “I have only the order to deliver the letter,” said the centurion.

  “Yes, there will be no answer. But, centurion, thou mightst rest a while with us and empty a goblet of wine?”

  “Thanks to thee, noble lord. A goblet of wine I will drink to thy health willingly; but rest I may not, for I am on duty.”

  “Why was the letter given to thee, and not sent by a slave?”

  “I know not, lord. Perhaps because I was sent in this direction on other duty.”

  “I know, against the Christians?”

  “Yes, lord.”

  “Is it long since the pursuit was begun?”

  “Some divisions were sent to the Trans-Tiber before midday.” When he had said this, the centurion shook a little wine from the goblet in honor of Mars; then he emptied it, and said, —

  “May the gods grant thee, lord, what thou desirest.”

  “Take the goblet too,” said Petronius.

  Then he gave a sign to Anthemios to finish the hymn to Apollo.

  “Bronzebeard is beginning to play with me and Vinicius,” thought he, when the harps sounded anew. “I divine his plan! He wanted to terrify me by sending the invitation through a centurion. They will ask the centurion in the evening how I received him. No, no! thou wilt not amuse thyself overmuch, cruel and wicked prophet. I know that thou wilt not forget the offence, I know that my destruction will not fail; but if thou think that I shall look into thy eyes imploringly, that thou wilt see fear and humility on my face, thou art mistaken.”

  “Cæsar writes, lord,” said Eunice, “‘Come if thou hast the wish’; wilt thou go?”

  “I am in excellent health, and can listen even to his verses,” answered Petronius; “hence I shall go, all the more since Vinicius cannot go.”

  In fact, after the dinner was finished and after the usual walk, he gave himself into the hands of hairdressers and of slaves who arranged his robes, and an hour later, beautiful as a god, he gave command to take him to the Palatine.

  It was late, the evening was warm and calm; the moon shone so brightly that the lampadarii going before the litter put out their torches. On the streets and among the ruins crowds of people were pushing along, drunk with wine, in garlands of ivy and honeysuckle, bearing in their hands branches of myrtle and laurel taken from Cæsar’s gardens. Abundance of grain and hopes of great games filled the hearts of all with gladness. Here and there songs were sung magnifying the “divine night” and love; here and there they were dancing by the light of the moon, and the slaves were forced repeatedly to demand space for the litter “of the noble Petronius,” and then the crowd pushed apart, shouting in honor of their favorite.

  He was thinking of Vinicius, and wondering why he had no news from him. He was an Epicurean and an egotist, but passing time, now with Paul of Tarsus, now with Vinicius, hearing daily of the Christians, he had changed somewhat without his own knowledge. A certain breeze from them had blown on him; this cast new seeds into his soul. Besides his own person others began to occupy him; moreover, he had been always attached to Vinicius, for in childhood he had loved greatly his sister, the mother of Vinicius; at present, therefore, when he had taken part in his affairs, he looked on them with that interest with which he would have looked on some tragedy.

  Petronius did not lose hope that Vinicius had anticipated the pretorians and fled with Lygia, or, in the worse case, had rescued her. But he would have preferred to be certain, since he foresaw that he might have to answer various questions for which he would better be prepared.

  Stopping before the house of Tiberius, he alighted from the litter, and after a while entered the atrium, filled already with Augustians. Yesterday’s friends, though astonished that he was invited, still pushed back; but he moved on among them, beautiful, free, unconcerned, as self-confident as if he himself had the power to distribute favors. Some, seeing him thus, were alarmed in spirit lest they had shown him indifference too early.

  Cæsar, however, feigned not to see him, and did not return his obeisance, pretending to be occupied in conversation. But Tigellinus approached and said,

  “Good evening, Arbiter Elegantiarum. Dost thou assert still that it was not the Christians who burnt Rome?”

  Petronius shrugged his shoulders, and, clapping Tigellinus on the back as he would a freedman, answered, —

  “Thou knowest as well as I what to think of that.”

  “I do not dare to rival thee in wisdom.”

  “And thou art right, for when Cæsar reads to us a new book from the Troyad, thou, instead of crying out like a jackdaw, wouldst have to give an opinion that was not pointless.”

  Tigellinus bit his lips. He was not over-rejoiced that Cæsar had decided to read a new book, for that opened a field in which he could not rival Petronius. In fact, during the reading, Nero, from habit, turned his eyes involuntarily toward Petronius, looking carefully to see what he could read in his face. The latter listened, raised his brows, agreed at times, in places increased his attention as if to be sure that he heard correctly. Then he praised or criticised, demanded corrections or the smoothing of certain verses. Nero himself felt that for others in their exaggerated praises it was simply a question of themselves, that Petronius alone was occupied with poetry for its own sake; that he alone understood it, and that if he praised one could be sure that the verses deserved praise. Gradually therefore he began to discuss with him, to dispute; and when at last Petronius brought the fitness of a certain expression into doubt, he said, —

  “Thou wilt see in the last book why I used it.”

  “Ah,” thought Petronius, “then we shall wait for the last book.”

  More than one hearing this said in spirit: “Woe to me! Petronius with time before him may return to favor and overturn even Tigellinus.” And they began again to approach him. But the end of the evening was less fortunate; for Cæsar, at the moment when Petronius was taking leave, inquired suddenly, with blinking eyes and a face at once glad and malicious, —

  “But why did not Vinicius come?”

  Had Petronius been sure that Vinicius and Lygia were beyond the gates of the city, he would have answered, “With thy permission he has married and gone.” But seeing Nero’s strange smile, he answered, —

  “Thy invitation, divinity, did not find him at home.”

  “Say to Vinicius that I shall be glad to see him,” answered Nero, “and tell him from me not to neglect the games in which Christians will appear.”

  These words alarmed Petronius. It seemed to him that they related to Lygia directly. Sitting in his litter, he gave command to bear him home still more quickly than in the morning. That, however, was not easy. Before the house of Tiberius stood a crowd dense and noisy, drunk as before, though not singing and dancing, but, as it were, excited. From afar came certain shouts which Petronius could not understand at once, but which rose and grew till at last they were one savage roar, —

  “To the lions with Christians!”

  Rich litters of courtiers pushed through the howling rabble. From the depth of burnt streets new crowds rushed forth continually; these, hearing the cry, repeated it. News passed from mouth to mouth that the pursuit had continued from the forenoon, that a multitude of incendiaries were seized; and immediately along the newly cleared and the old streets, through alleys lying among ruins around the Palatine, over all the hills and gardens were heard through the length and breadth of Rome shouts of swelling rage, —

  “To the lions with Christians!”

  “Herd!” repeated Petronius, with contempt; “a people worthy of Cæsar!” And he began to think that a society resting on superior force, on cruelty of which even barbarians had no conception, on crimes and mad profligacy, could not endure. Rome ruled the world, but was also its ulcer. The odor of a corpse was rising from it. Over its decaying life the shadow of death was descending. More than once this had been mentioned even among the Augustians, but never before had Petronius had a clearer view of this truth that the laurelled chariot on which Rome stood in the form of a triumphator, and which dragged behind a chained herd of nations, was going to the precipice. The life of that world-ruling city seemed to him a kind of mad dance, an orgy, which must end. He saw then that the Christians alone had a new basis of life; but he judged that soon there would not remain a trace of the Christians. And what then?

  The mad dance would continue under Nero; and if Nero disappeared, another would be found of the same kind or worse, for with such a people and such patricians there was no reason to find a better leader. There would be a new orgy, and moreover a fouler and a viler one.

  But the orgy could not last forever, and there would be need of sleep when it was over, even because of simple exhaustion.

  While thinking of this, Petronius felt immensely wearied. Was it worth while to live, and live in uncertainty, with no purpose but to look at such a society? The genius of death was not less beautiful than the genius of sleep, and he also had wings at his shoulders.

  The litter stopped before the arbiter’s door, which was opened that instant by the watchful keeper.

  “Has the noble Vinicius returned?” inquired Petronius.

  “Yes, lord, a moment ago,” replied the slave.

  “He has not rescued her,” thought Petronius. And casting aside his toga, he ran into the atrium. Vinicius was sitting on a stool; his head bent almost to his knees with his hands on his head; but at the sound of steps he raised his stony face, in which the eyes alone had a feverish brightness.

  “Thou wert late?” asked Petronius.

  “Yes; they seized her before midday.”

  A moment of silence followed.

  “Hast thou seen her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In the Mamertine prison.”

  Petronius trembled and looked at Vinicius with an inquiring glance. The latter understood.

  “No,” said he. “She was not thrust down to the Tullianum [The lowest part of the prison, lying entirely underground, with a single opening in the ceiling. Jugurtha died there of hunger.] nor even to the middle prison. I paid the guard to give her his own room. Ursus took his place at the threshold and is guarding her.”

  “Why did Ursus not defend her?”

  “They sent fifty pretorians, and Linus forbade him.”

  “But Linus?”

  “Linus is dying; therefore they did not seize him.”

  “What is thy intention?”

  “To save her or die with her. I too believe in Christ.”

  Vinicius spoke with apparent calmness; but there was such despair in his voice that the heart of Petronius quivered from pure pity.

  “I understand thee,” said he; “but how dost thou think to save her?”

  “I paid the guards highly, first to shield her from indignity, and second not to hinder her flight.”

  “When can that happen?”

  “They answered that they could not give her to me at once, as they feared responsibility. When the prison will be filled with a multitude of people, and when the tally of prisoners is confused, they will deliver her. But that is a desperate thing! Do thou save her, and me first! Thou art a friend of Cæsar. He himself gave her to me. Go to him and save me!”

  Petronius, instead of answering, called a slave, and, commanding him to bring two dark mantles and two swords, turned to Vinicius,

  “On the way I will tell thee,” said he. “Meanwhile take the mantle and weapon, and we will go to the prison. There give the guards a hundred thousand sestertia; give them twice and five times more, if they will free Lygia at once. Otherwise it will be too late.”

  “Let us go,” said Vinicius.

  After a while both were on the street.

  “Now listen to me,” said Petronius. “I did not wish to lose time. I am in disfavor, beginning with to-day. My own life is hanging on a hair; hence I can do nothing with Cæsar. Worse than that, I am sure that he would act in opposition to my request. If that were not the case, would I advise thee to flee with Lygia or to rescue her? Besides, if thou escape, Cæsar’s wrath will turn on me. To-day he would rather do something at thy request than at mine. Do not count on that, however. Get her out of the prison, and flee! Nothing else is left. If that does not succeed, there will be time for other methods. Meanwhile know that Lygia is in prison, not alone for belief in Christ; Poppæa’s anger is pursuing her and thee. Thou hast offended the Augusta by rejecting her, dost remember? She knows that she was rejected for Lygia, whom she hated from the first cast of the eye. Nay, she tried to destroy Lygia before by ascribing the death of her own infant to her witchcraft. The hand of Poppæa is in this. How explain that Lygia was the first to be imprisoned? Who could point out the house of Linus? But I tell thee that she has been followed this long time. I know that I wring thy soul, and take the remnant of thy hope from thee, but I tell thee this purposely, for the reason that if thou free her not before they come at the idea that thou wilt try, ye are both lost.”

  “Yes; I understand!” muttered Vinicius.

  The streets were empty because of the late hour. Their further conversation was interrupted, however, by a drunken gladiator who came toward them. He reeled against Petronius, put one hand on his shoulder, covering his face with a breath filled with wine, and shouted in a hoarse voice, —

  “To the lions with Christians!”

  “Mirmillon,” answered Petronius, quietly, “listen to good counsel; go thy way.”

  With his other hand the drunken man seized him by the arm, —

  “Shout with me, or I’ll break thy neck: Christians to the lions!” But the arbiter’s nerves had had enough of those shouts. From the time that he had left the Palatine they had been stifling him like a nightmare, and rending his ears. So when he saw the fist of the giant above him, the measure of his patience was exceeded.

  “Friend,” said he, “thou hint the smell of wine, and art stopping my way.”

  Thus speaking, he drove into the man’s breast to the hilt the short sword which he had brought from home; then, taking the arm of Vinicius, he continued as if nothing had happened, —

  “Cæsar said to-day, ‘Tell Vinicius from me to be at the games in which Christians will appear.’ Dost understand what that means? They wish to make a spectacle of thy pain. That is a settled affair. Perhaps that is why thou and I are not imprisoned yet. If thou art not able to get her at once — I do not know — Acte might take thy part; but can she effect anything? Thy Sicilian lands, too, might tempt Tigellinus. Make the trial.”

  “I will give him all that I have,” answered Vinicius.

  From the Carinæ to the Forum was not very far; hence they arrived soon. The night had begun to pale, and the walls of the castle came out definitely from the shadow.

  Suddenly, as they turned toward the Mamertine prison, Petronius stopped, and said,

  “Pretorians! Too late!”

  In fact the prison was surrounded by a double rank of soldiers. The morning dawn was silvering their helmets and the points of their javelins.

  Vinicius grew as pale as marble. “Let us go on,” said he.

  After a while they halted before the line. Gifted with an uncommon memory, Petronius knew not only the officers, but nearly all the pretorian soldiers. Soon he saw an acquaintance, a leader of a cohort, and nodded to him.

  “But what is this, Niger?” asked he; “are ye commanded to watch the prison?”

  “Yes, noble Petronius. The prefect feared lest they might try to rescue the incendiaries.”

  “Have ye the order to admit no one?” inquired Vinicius.

  “We have not; acquaintances will visit the prisoners, and in that way we shall seize more Christians.”

  “Then let me in,” said Vinicius; and pressing Petronius’s hand, he said, “See Acte, I will come to learn her answer.”

  “Come,” responded Petronius.

  At that moment under the ground and beyond the thick walls was heard singing. The hymn, at first low and muffled, rose more and more. The voices of men, women, and children were mingled in one harmonious chorus. The whole prison began to sound, in the calmness of dawn, like a harp. But those were not voices of sorrow or despair; on the contrary, gladness and triumph were heard in them.

  The soldiers looked at one another with amazement. The first golden and rosy gleams of the morning appeared in the sky.

  Chapter LI

  THE cry, “Christians to the lions!” was heard increasingly in every part of the city. At first not only did no one doubt that they were the real authors of the catastrophe, but no one wished to doubt, since their punishment was to be a splendid amusement for the populace. Still the opinion spread that the catastrophe would not have assumed such dreadful proportions but for the anger of the gods; for this reason “piacula,” or purifying sacrifices, were commanded in the temples. By advice of the Sibylline books, the Senate ordained solemnities and public prayer to Vulcan, Ceres, and Proserpina. Matrons made offerings to Juno; a whole procession of them went to the seashore to take water and sprinkle with it the statue of the goddess. Married women prepared feasts to the gods and night watches. All Rome purified itself from sin, made offerings, and placated the Immortals. Meanwhile new broad streets were opened among the ruins. In one place and another foundations were laid for magnificent houses, palaces, and temples. But first of all they built with unheard-of haste an enormous wooden amphitheatre in which Christians were to die. Immediately after that consultation in the house of Tiberius, orders went to consuls to furnish wild beasts. Tigellinus emptied the vivaria of all Italian cities, not excepting the smaller ones. In Africa, at his command, gigantic hunts were organized, in which the entire local population was forced to take part. Elephants and tigers were brought in from Asia, crocodiles and hippopotamuses from the Nile, lions from the Atlas, wolves and bears from the Pyrenees, savage hounds from Hibernia, Molossian dogs from Epirus, bisons and the gigantic wild aurochs from Germany. Because of the number of prisoners, the games were to surpass in greatness anything seen up to that time. Cæsar wished to drown all memory of the fire in blood, and make Rome drunk with it; hence never had there been a greater promise of bloodshed.

 

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