Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
superhuman being. While running, he thought that he might be some god
who had taken the form of a barbarian. At that moment he believed in all
the gods of the world, and in all myths, at which he jeered usually. It
flew through his head, too, that it might be the God of the Christians
who had killed Croton; and his hair stood on end again at the thought
that he was in conflict with such a power.
Only when he had run through a number of alleys, and saw some workmen
coming toward him from a distance, was he calmed somewhat. Breath failed
in his breast; so he sat on the threshold of a house and began to wipe,
with a corner of his mantle, his sweat-covered forehead.
“I am old, and need calm,” said he.
The people coming toward him turned into some little side street, and
again the place round about was empty. The city was sleeping yet. In the
morning movement began earlier in the wealthier parts of the city,
where the slaves of rich houses were forced to rise before daylight; in
portions inhabited by a free population, supported at the cost of the
State, hence unoccupied, they woke rather late, especially in winter.
Chilo, after he had sat some time on the threshold, felt a piercing
cold; so he rose, and, convincing himself that he had not lost the purse
received from Vinicius, turned toward the river with a step now much
slower.
“I may see Croton’s body somewhere,” said he to himself. “O gods! that
Lygian, if he is a man, might make millions of sestertia in the course
of one year; for if he choked Croton, like a whelp, who can resist him?
They would give for his every appearance in the arena as much gold as he
himself weighs. He guards that maiden better than Cerberus does Hades.
But may Hades swallow him, for all that! I will have nothing to do with
him. He is too bony. But where shall I begin in this case? A dreadful
thing has happened. If he has broken the bones of such a man as Croton,
beyond a doubt the soul of Vinicius is puling above that cursed house
now, awaiting his burial. By Castor! but he is a patrician, a friend
of Cæsar, a relative of Petronius, a man known in all Rome, a military
tribune. His death cannot pass without punishment. Suppose I were to go
to the pretorian camp, or the guards of the city, for instance?”
Here he stopped and began to think, but said after a while,--“Woe is me!
Who took him to that house if not I? His freedmen and his slaves know
that I came to his house, and some of them know with what object. What
will happen if they suspect me of having pointed out to him purposely
the house in which his death met him? Though it appear afterward, in the
court, that I did not wish his death, they will say that I was the
cause of it. Besides, he is a patrician; hence in no event can I avoid
punishment. But if I leave Rome in silence, and go far away somewhere, I
shall place myself under still greater suspicion.”
It was bad in every case. The only question was to choose the less evil.
Rome was immense; still Chilo felt that it might become too small for
him. Any other man might go directly to the prefect of the city guards
and tell what had happened, and, though some suspicion might fall
on him, await the issue calmly. But Chilo’s whole past was of such
character that every closer acquaintance with the prefect of the city
or the prefect of the guard must cause him very serious trouble, and
confirm also every suspicion which might enter the heads of officials.
On the other hand, to flee would be to confirm Petronius in the opinion
that Vinicius had been betrayed and murdered through conspiracy.
Petronius was a powerful man, who could command the police of the whole
Empire, and who beyond doubt would try to find the guilty parties even
at the ends of the earth. Still, Chilo thought to go straight to him,
and tell what had happened. Yes; that was the best plan. Petronius was
calm, and Chilo might be sure of this, at least, that he would hear him
to the end. Petronius, who knew the affair from its inception, would
believe in Chilo’s innocence more easily than would the prefects.
But to go to him, it was needful to know with certainty what had
happened to Vinicius. Chilo did not know that. He had seen, it is true,
the Lygian stealing with Croton’s body to the river, but nothing more.
Vinicius might be killed; but he might be wounded or detained. Now it
occurred to Chilo for the first time, that surely the Christians would
not dare to kill a man so powerful,--a friend of Cæsar, and a high
military official,--for that kind of act might draw on them a general
persecution. It was more likely that they had detained him by superior
force, to give Lygia means to hide herself a second time.
This thought filled Chilo with hope.
“If that Lygian dragon has not torn him to pieces at the first attack,
he is alive, and if he is alive he himself will testify that I have not
betrayed him; and then not only does nothing threaten me, but--O Hermes,
count again on two heifers--a fresh field is opening. I can inform
one of the freedmen where to seek his lord; and whether he goes to the
prefect or not is his affair, the only point being that I should not go.
Also, I can go to Petronius, and count on a reward. I have found Lygia;
now I shall find Vinicius, and then again Lygia. It is needful to know
first whether Vinicius is dead or living.”
Here it occurred to him that he might go in the night to the baker Demas
and inquire about Ursus. But he rejected that thought immediately. He
preferred to have nothing to do with Ursus. He might suppose, justly,
that if Ursus had not killed Glaucus he had been warned, evidently, by
the Christian elder to whom he had confessed his design,--warned that
the affair was an unclean one, to which some traitor had persuaded him.
In every case, at the mere recollection of Ursus, a shiver ran through
Chilo’s whole body. But he thought that in the evening he would send
Euricius for news to that house in which the thing had happened.
Meanwhile he needed refreshment, a bath, and rest. The sleepless night,
the journey to Ostrianum, the flight from the Trans-Tiber, had wearied
him exceedingly.
One thing gave him permanent comfort: he had on his person two
purses,--that which Vinicius had given him at home, and that which
he had thrown him on the way from the cemetery. In view of this happy
circumstance, and of all the excitement through which he had passed, he
resolved to eat abundantly, and drink better wine than he drank usually.
When the hour for opening the wine-shop came at last, he did so in such
a marked measure that he forgot the bath; he wished to sleep, above all,
and drowsiness overcame his strength so that he returned with tottering
step to his dwelling in the Subura, where a slave woman, purchased with
money obtained from Vinicius, was waiting for him.
When he had entered a sleeping-room, as dark as the den of a fox, he
threw himself on the bed, and fell asleep in one instant. He woke only
in the evening, or rather he was roused by the slave woman, who called
him to rise, for some one was inquiring, and wished to see him on urgent
business.
The watchful Chilo came to himself in one moment, threw on his hooded
mantle hastily, and, commanding the slave woman to stand aside, looked
out cautiously.
And he was benumbed! for he saw before the door of the sleeping-room the
gigantic form of Ursus.
At that sight he felt his feet and head grow icy-cold, the heart ceased
to beat in his bosom, and shivers were creeping along his back. For
a time he was unable to speak; then with chattering teeth he said, or
rather groaned,--
“Syra--I am not at home--I don’t know that--good man-”
“I told him that thou wert at home, but asleep, lord,” answered the
girl; “he asked to rouse thee.”
“O gods! I will command that thou--”
But Ursus, as if impatient of delay, approached the door of the
sleeping-room, and, bending, thrust in his head.
“O Chilo Chilonides!” said he.
“Pax tecum! pax! pax!” answered Chilo. “O best of Christians! Yes, I am
Chilo; but this is a mistake,--I do not know thee!”
“Chilo Chilonides,” repeated Ursus, “thy lord, Vinicius, summons thee to
go with me to him.”
Chapter XXIII
A PIERCING pain roused Vinicius. At the first moment he could not
understand where he was, nor what was happening. He felt a roaring in
his head, and his eyes were covered as if with mist. Gradually, however,
his consciousness returned, and at last he beheld through that mist
three persons bending over him. Two he recognized: one was Ursus, the
other the old man whom he had thrust aside when carrying off Lygia. The
third, an utter stranger, was holding his left arm, and feeling it from
the elbow upward as far as the shoulder-blade. This caused so terrible
a pain that Vinicius, thinking it a kind of revenge which they were
taking, said through his set teeth, “Kill me!” But they paid no apparent
heed to his words, just as though they heard them not, or considered
them the usual groans of suffering. Ursus, with his anxious and also
threatening face of a barbarian, held a bundle of white cloth torn in
long strips. The old man spoke to the person who was pressing the arm of
Vinicius,--“Glaucus, art thou certain that the wound in the head is not
mortal?”
“Yes, worthy Crispus,” answered Glaucus. “While serving in the fleet as
a slave, and afterward while living at Naples, I cured many wounds, and
with the pay which came to me from that occupation I freed myself and my
relatives at last. The wound in the head is slight. When this one [here
he pointed to Ursus with his head] took the girl from the young man,
he pushed him against the wall; the young man while falling put out his
arm, evidently to save himself; he broke and disjointed it, but by so
doing saved his head and his life.”
“Thou hast had more than one of the brotherhood in thy care,” added
Crispus, “and hast the repute of a skilful physician; therefore I sent
Ursus to bring thee.”
“Ursus, who on the road confessed that yesterday he was ready to kill
me!”
“He confessed his intention earlier to me than to thee; but I, who know
thee and thy love for Christ, explained to him that the traitor is not
thou, but the unknown, who tried to persuade him to murder.”
“That was an evil spirit, but I took him for an angel,” said Ursus, with
a sigh.
“Some other time thou wilt tell me, but now we must think of this
wounded man.” Thus speaking, he began to set the arm. Though Crispus
sprinkled water on his face, Vinicius fainted repeatedly from suffering;
that was, however, a fortunate circumstance, since he did not feel the
pain of putting his arm into joint, nor of setting it. Glaucus fixed the
limb between two strips of wood, which he bound quickly and firmly, so
as to keep the arm motionless. When the operation was over, Vinicius
recovered consciousness again and saw Lygia above him. She stood there
at the bed holding a brass basin with water, in which from time to time
Glaucus dipped a sponge and moistened the head of his patient.
Vinicius gazed and could not believe his eyes. What he saw seemed a
dream, or the pleasant vision brought by fever, and only after a long
time could he whisper,--“Lygia!”
The basin trembled in her hand at that sound, but she turned on him eyes
full of sadness.
“Peace be with thee!” answered she, in a low voice.
She stood there with extended arms, her face full of pity and sorrow.
But he gazed, as if to fill his sight with her, so that after his lids
were closed the picture might remain under them. He looked at her face,
paler and smaller than it had been, at the tresses of dark hair, at the
poor dress of a laboring woman; he looked so intently that her snowy
forehead began to grow rose-colored under the influence of his look. And