Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
the “sagatio,” as they termed the tossing, was changed into a genuine
carrying away, and the pearl was sent either to the Palatine or to one
of Cæsar’s numberless villas, or finally Cæsar yielded it to one of his
intimates. So might it happen also with Lygia. Cæsar had seen her during
the feast; and Vinicius doubted not for an instant that she must have
seemed to him the most beautiful woman he had seen yet. How could it
be otherwise? It is true that Lygia had been in Nero’s own house on
the Palatine, and he might have kept her openly. But, as Petronius said
truly, Cæsar had no courage in crime, and, with power to act openly, he
chose to act always in secret. This time fear of Poppæa might incline
him also to secrecy. It occurred now to the young soldier that Aulus
would not have dared, perhaps, to carry off forcibly a girl given
him, Vinicius, by Cæsar. Besides, who would dare? Would that gigantic
blue-eyed Lygian, who had the courage to enter the triclinium and carry
her from the feast on his arm? But where could he hide with her; whither
could he take her? No! a slave would not have ventured that far. Hence
no one had done the deed except Cæsar.
At this thought it grew dark in his eyes, and drops of sweat covered his
forehead. In that case Lygia was lost to him forever. It was possible
to wrest her from the hands of any one else, but not from the hands of
Cæsar. Now, with greater truth than ever, could he exclaim, “Væ misero
mihi!” His imagination represented Lygia in Nero’s arms, and, for the
first time in life, he understood that there are thoughts which are
simply beyond man’s endurance. He knew then, for the first time, how he
loved her. As his whole life flashes through the memory of a drowning
man, so Lygia began to pass through his. He saw her, heard every word
of hers,--saw her at the fountain, saw her at the house of Aulus, and at
the feast; felt her near him, felt the odor of her hair, the warmth of
her body, the delight of the kisses which at the feast he had pressed
on her innocent lips. She seemed to him a hundred times sweeter, more
beautiful, more desired than ever,--a hundred times more the only
one, the one chosen from among all mortals and divinities. And when he
thought that all this which had become so fixed in his heart, which had
become his blood and life, might be possessed by Nero, a pain seized
him, which was purely physical, and so piercing that he wanted to beat
his head against the wall of the atrium, until he should break it. He
felt that he might go mad; and he would have gone mad beyond doubt, had
not vengeance remained to him. But as hitherto he had thought that he
could not live unless he got Lygia, he thought now that he would not
die till he had avenged her. This gave him a certain kind of comfort. “I
will be thy Cassius Chærea!” [The slayer of Caligula] said he to himself
in thinking of Nero. After a while, seizing earth in his hands from
the flower vases surrounding the impluvium, he made a dreadful vow
to Erebus, Hecate, and his own household lares, that he would have
vengeance.
And he received a sort of consolation. He had at least something to live
for and something with which to fill his nights and days. Then, dropping
his idea of visiting Aulus, he gave command to bear him to the Palatine.
Along the way he concluded that if they would not admit him to Cæsar,
or if they should try to find weapons on his person, it would be a proof
that Cæsar had taken Lygia. He had no weapons with him. He had lost
presence of mind in general; but as is usual with persons possessed by a
single idea, he preserved it in that which concerned his revenge. He did
not wish his desire of revenge to fall away prematurely. He wished above
all to see Acte, for he expected to learn the truth from her. At moments
the hope flashed on him that he might see Lygia also, and at that
thought he began to tremble. For if Cæsar had carried her away without
knowledge of whom he was taking, he might return her that day. But after
a while he cast aside this supposition. Had there been a wish to return
her to him, she would have been sent yesterday. Acte was the only person
who could explain everything, and there was need to see her before
others.
Convinced of this, he commanded the slaves to hasten; and along the road
he thought without order, now of Lygia, now of revenge. He had heard
that Egyptian priests of the goddess Pasht could bring disease on
whomever they wished, and he determined to learn the means of doing
this. In the Orient they had told him, too, that Jews have certain
invocations by which they cover their enemies’ bodies with ulcers.
He had a number of Jews among his domestic slaves; hence he promised
himself to torture them on his return till they divulged the secret. He
found most delight, however, in thinking of the short Roman sword which
lets out a stream of blood such as had gushed from Caius Caligula and
made ineffaceable stains on the columns of the portico. He was ready
to exterminate all Rome; and had vengeful gods promised that all people
should die except him and Lygia, he would have accepted the promise.
In front of the arch he regained presence of mind, and thought when he
saw the pretorian guard, “If they make the least difficulty in admitting
me, they will prove that Lygia is in the palace by the will of Cæsar.”
But the chief centurion smiled at him in a friendly manner, then
advanced a number of steps, and said,--“A greeting, noble tribune.
If thou desire to give an obeisance to Cæsar, thou hast found an
unfortunate moment. I do not think that thou wilt be able to see him.”
“What has happened?” inquired Vinicius.
“The infant Augusta fell ill yesterday on a sudden. Cæsar and the august
Poppæa are attending her, with physicians whom they have summoned from
the whole city.”
This was an important event. When that daughter was born to him, Cæsar
was simply wild from delight, and received her with extra humanum
gaudium. Previously the senate had committed the womb of Poppæa to the
gods with the utmost solemnity. A votive offering was made at Antium,
where the delivery took place; splendid games were celebrated, and
besides a temple was erected to the two Fortunes. Nero, unable to be
moderate in anything, loved the infant beyond measure; to Poppæa the
child was dear also, even for this, that it strengthened her position
and made her influence irresistible.
The fate of the whole empire might depend on the health and life of the
infant Augusta; but Vinicius was so occupied with himself, his own case
and his love, that without paying attention to the news of the centurion
he answered, “I only wish to see Acte.” And he passed in.
But Acte was occupied also near the child, and he had to wait a long
time to see her. She came only about midday, with a face pale and
wearied, which grew paler still at sight of Vinicius.
“Acte!” cried Vinicius, seizing her hand and drawing her to the middle
of the atrium, “where is Lygia?”
“I wanted to ask thee touching that,” answered she, looking him in the
eyes with reproach.
But though he had promised himself to inquire of her calmly, he pressed
his head with his hands again, and said, with a face distorted by pain
and anger,--“She is gone. She was taken from me on the way!”
After a while, however, he recovered, and thrusting his face up to
Acte’s, said through his set teeth,--“Acte! If life be dear to thee,
if thou wish not to cause misfortunes which thou are unable even to
imagine, answer me truly. Did Cæsar take her?”
“Cæsar did not leave the palace yesterday.”
“By the shade of thy mother, by all the gods, is she not in the palace?”
“By the shade of my mother, Marcus, she is not in the palace, and Cæsar
did not intercept her. The infant Augusta is ill since yesterday, and
Nero has not left her cradle.”
Vinicius drew breath. That which had seemed the most terrible ceased to
threaten him.
“Ah, then,” said he, sitting on the bench and clinching his fists,
“Aulus intercepted her, and in that case woe to him!”
“Aulus Plautius was here this morning. He could not see me, for I was
occupied with the child; but he inquired of Epaphroditus, and others of
Cæsar’s servants, touching Lygia, and told them that he would come again
to see me.”
“He wished to turn suspicion from himself. If he knew not what happened,
he would have come to seek Lygia in my house.”
“He left a few words on a tablet, from which thou wilt see that, knowing
Lygia to have been taken from his house by Cæsar, at thy request and
that of Petronius, he expected that she would be sent to thee, and
this morning early he was at thy house, where they told him what had
happened.”
When she had said this, she went to the cubiculum and returned soon with
the tablet which Aulus had left.
Vinicius read the tablet, and was silent; Acte seemed to read the
thoughts on his gloomy face, for she said after a while,--“No, Marcus.
That has happened which Lygia herself wished.”
“It was known to thee that she wished to flee!” burst out Vinicius.
“I knew that she would not become thy concubine.” And she looked at him
with her misty eyes almost sternly.
“And thou,--what hast thou been all thy life?”
“I was a slave, first of all.”
But Vinicius did not cease to be enraged. Cæsar had given him Lygia;
hence he had no need to inquire what she had been before. He would find
her, even under the earth, and he would do what he liked with her. He
would indeed! She should be his concubine. He would give command to flog
her as often as he pleased. If she grew distasteful to him, he would
give her to the lowest of his slaves, or he would command her to turn a
handmill on his lands in Africa. He would seek her out now, and find her
only to bend her, to trample on her, and conquer her.
And, growing more and more excited, he lost every sense of measure, to
the degree that even Acte saw that he was promising more than he could
execute; that he was talking because of pain and anger. She might have
had even compassion on him, but his extravagance exhausted her patience,
and at last she inquired why he had come to her.
Vinicius did not find an answer immediately. He had come to her
because he wished to come, because he judged that she would give him
information; but really he had come to Cæsar, and, not being able to see
him, he came to her. Lygia, by fleeing, opposed the will of Cæsar; hence
he would implore him to give an order to search for her throughout the
city and the empire, even if it came to using for that purpose all the
legions, and to ransacking in turn every house within Roman dominion.
Petronius would support his prayer, and the search would begin from that
day.
“Have a care,” answered Acte, “lest thou lose her forever the moment she
is found, at command of Cæsar.”
Vinicius wrinkled his brows. “What does that mean?” inquired he.
“Listen to me, Marcus. Yesterday Lygia and I were in the gardens here,
and we met Poppæa, with the infant Augusta, borne by an African woman,
Lilith. In the evening the child fell ill, and Lilith insists that
she was bewitched; that that foreign woman whom they met in the garden
bewitched her. Should the child recover, they will forget this, but
in the opposite case Poppæa will be the first to accuse Lygia of
witchcraft, and wherever she is found there will be no rescue for her.”
A moment of silence followed; then Vinicius said,--“But perhaps she did
bewitch her, and has bewitched me.”
“Lilith repeats that the child began to cry the moment she carried her
past us. And really the child did begin to cry. It is certain that she
was sick when they took her out of the garden. Marcus, seek for Lygia
whenever it may please thee, but till the infant Augusta recovers, speak