Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
which had met him since yesterday, was added another. But being weak and
without his slaves, he restrained himself, especially since a wish to
learn some details of Lygia’s life gained the upper hand in him.
When he had calmed himself, therefore, he inquired about the war of the
Lygians against Vannius and the Suevi. Ursus was glad to converse, but
could not add much that was new to what in his time Aulus Plautius had
told. Ursus had not been in battle, for he had attended the hostages to
the camp of Atelius Hister. He knew only that the Lygians had beaten the
Suevi and the Yazygi, but that their leader and king had fallen from
the arrows of the Yazygi. Immediately after they received news that the
Semnones had set fire to forests on their boundaries, they returned in
haste to avenge the wrong, and the hostages remained with Atelius, who
ordered at first to give them kingly honors. Afterward Lygia’s mother
died. The Roman commander knew not what to do with the child. Ursus
wished to return with her to their own country, but the road was unsafe
because of wild beasts and wild tribes. When news came that an
embassy of Lygians had visited Pomponius, offering him aid against the
Marcomani, Hister sent him with Lygia to Pomponius. When they came to
him they learned, however, that no ambassadors had been there, and in
that way they remained in the camp; whence Pomponius took them to Rome,
and at the conclusion of his triumph he gave the king’s daughter to
Pomponia Græcina.
Though only certain small details of this narrative had been unknown to
Vinicius, he listened with pleasure, for his enormous pride of family
was pleased that an eye-witness had confirmed Lygia’s royal descent. As
a king’s daughter she might occupy a position at Cæsar’s court equal to
the daughters of the very first families, all the more since the nation
whose ruler her father had been, had not warred with Rome so far, and,
though barbarian, it might become terrible; for, according to Atelius
Hister himself, it possessed an immense force of warriors. Ursus,
moreover, confirmed this completely.
“We live in the woods,” said he, in answer to Vinicius, “but we have so
much land that no man knows where the end is, and there are many people
on it. There are also wooden towns in the forest, in which there is
great plenty; for what the Semnones, the Marcomani, the Vandals, and the
Quadi plunder through the world, we take from them. They dare not come
to us; but when the wind blows from their side, they burn our forests.
We fear neither them nor the Roman Cæsar.”
“The gods gave Rome dominion over the earth,” said Vinicius severely.
“The gods are evil spirits,” replied Ursus, with simplicity, “and where
there are no Romans, there is no supremacy.”
Here he fixed the fire, and said, as if to himself,--“When Cæsar took
Callina to the palace, and I thought that harm might meet her, I wanted
to go to the forest and bring Lygians to help the king’s daughter. And
Lygians would have moved toward the Danube, for they are virtuous people
though pagan. There I should have given them ‘good tidings.’ But as it
is, if ever Callina returns to Pomponia Græcina I will bow down to her
for permission to go to them; for Christus was born far away, and they
have not even heard of Him. He knew better than I where He should be
born; but if He had come to the world with us, in the forests, we would
not have tortured Him to death, that is certain. We would have taken
care of the Child, and guarded Him, so that never should He want for
game, mushrooms, beaver-skins, or amber. And what we plundered from the
Suevi and the Marcomani we would have given Him, so that He might have
comfort and plenty.”
Thus speaking, he put near the fire the vessel with food for Vinicius,
and was silent. His thoughts wandered evidently, for a time yet, through
the Lygian wildernesses, till the liquid began to boil; then he poured
it into a shallow plate, and, cooling it properly, said,--“Glaucus
advises thee, lord, to move even thy sound arm as little as possible;
Callina has commanded me to give thee food.”
Lygia commanded! There was no answer to that. It did not even come to
Vinicius’s head to oppose her will, just as if she had been the daughter
of Cæsar or a goddess. He uttered not a word, therefore; and Ursus,
sitting near his bed, took out the liquid with a small cup, and put it
to his mouth. He did this so carefully, and with such a kindly smile,
that Vinicius could not believe his own eyes, could not think him the
same terrible Titan who the day before had crushed Croton, and, rushing
on him like a storm, would have torn him to pieces but for Lygia’s pity.
The young patrician, for the first time in life, began to ponder over
this: What can take place in the breast of a simple man, a barbarian,
and a servant?
But Ursus proved to be a nurse as awkward as painstaking; the cup was
lost among his herculean fingers so completely that there was no place
left for the mouth of the sick man. After a few fruitless efforts the
giant was troubled greatly, and said,--“Li! it would be easier to lead
an aurochs out of a snare.”
The anxiety of the Lygian amused Vinicius, but his remark did not
interest him less. He had seen in circuses the terrible urus, brought
from wildernesses of the north, against which the most daring bestiarii
went with dread, and which yielded only to elephants in size and
strength.
“Hast thou tried to take such beasts by the horns?” inquired he, with
astonishment.
“Till the twentieth winter passed over me, I was afraid,” answered
Ursus; “but after that it happened.”
And he began to feed Vinicius still more awkwardly than before.
“I must ask Miriam or Nazarius,” said he.
But now Lygia’s pale face appeared from behind the curtain.
“I will assist directly,” said she. And after a while she came from the
cubiculum, in which she had been preparing to sleep, as it seemed,
for she was in a single close tunic, called by the ancients capitium,
covering the breast completely, and her hair was unbound. Vinicius,
whose heart beat with more quickness at sight of her, began to upbraid
her for not thinking of sleep yet; but she answered joyously,--“I was
just preparing to sleep, but first I will take the place of Ursus.”
She took the cup, and, sitting on the edge of the bed, began to give
food to Vinicius, who felt at once overcome and delighted. When she
inclined toward him, the warmth of her body struck him, and her unbound
hair fell on his breast. He grew pale from the impression; but in the
confusion and impulse of desires he felt also that that was a head dear
above all and magnified above all, in comparison with which the whole
world was nothing. At first he had desired her; now he began to love her
with a full breast. Before that, as generally in life and in feeling, he
had been, like all people of that time, a blind, unconditional egotist,
who thought only of himself; at present he began to think of her.
After a while, therefore, he refused further nourishment; and though he
found inexhaustible delight in her presence and in looking at her, he
said,--“Enough! Go to rest, my divine one.”
“Do not address me in that way,” answered Lygia; “it is not proper for
me to hear such words.”
She smiled at him, however, and said that sleep had fled from her, that
she felt no toil, that she would not go to rest till Glaucus came.
He listened to her words as to music; his heart rose with increasing
delight, increasing gratitude, and his thought was struggling to show
her that gratitude.
“Lygia,” said he, after a moment of silence, “I did not know thee
hitherto. But I know now that I wished to attain thee by a false way;
hence I say, return to Pomponia Græcina, and be assured that in future
no hand will be raised against thee.”
Her face became sad on a sudden. “I should be happy,” answered she,
“could I look at her, even from a distance; but I cannot return to her
now.”
“Why?” inquired Vinicius, with astonishment.
“We Christians know, through Acte, what is done on the Palatine. Hast
thou not heard that Cæsar, soon after my flight and before his departure
for Naples, summoned Aulus and Pomponia, and, thinking that they had
helped me, threatened them with his anger? Fortunately Aulus was able to
say to him, ‘Thou knowest, lord, that a lie has never passed my lips;
I swear to thee now that we did not help her to escape, and we do not
know, as thou dost not, what has happened to her.’ Cæsar believed, and
afterward forgot. By the advice of the elders I have never written to
mother where I am, so that she might take an oath boldly at all times
that she has no knowledge of me. Thou wilt not understand this, perhaps,
O Vinicius; but it is not permitted us to lie, even in a question
involving life. Such is the religion on which we fashion our hearts;
therefore I have not seen Pomponia from the hour when I left her house.
From time to time distant echoes barely reach her that I am alive and
not in danger.”
Here a longing seized Lygia, and her eyes were moist with tears; but she
calmed herself quickly, and said,--“I know that Pomponia, too, yearns
for me; but we have consolation which others have not.”
“Yes,” answered Vinicius, “Christ is your consolation, but I do not
understand that.”
“Look at us! For us there are no partings, no pains, no sufferings; or
if they come they are turned into pleasure. And death itself, which for
you is the end of life, is for us merely its beginning,--the exchange of
a lower for a higher happiness, a happiness less calm for one calmer and
eternal. Consider what must a religion be which enjoins on us love even
for our enemies, forbids falsehood, purifies our souls from hatred, and
promises happiness inexhaustible after death.”
“I heard those teachings in Ostrianum, and I have seen how ye acted with
me and with Chilo; when I remember your deeds, they are like a dream,
and it seems to me that I ought not to believe my ears or eyes. But
answer me this question: Art thou happy?”
“I am,” answered Lygia. “One who confesses Christ cannot be unhappy.”
Vinicius looked at her, as though what she said passed every measure of
human understanding.
“And hast thou no wish to return to Pomponia?”
“I should like, from my whole soul, to return to her; and shall return,
if such be God’s will.”
“I say to thee, therefore, return; and I swear by my lares that I will
not raise a hand against thee.”
Lygia thought for a moment, and answered,--“No, I cannot expose
those near me to danger. Cæsar does not like the Plautiuses. Should
I return--thou knowest how every news is spread throughout Rome by
slaves--my return would be noised about in the city. Nero would hear of
it surely through his slaves, and punish Aulus and Pomponia,--at least
take me from them a second time.”
“True,” answered Vinicius, frowning, “that would be possible. He would
do so, even to show that his will must be obeyed. It is true that he
only forgot thee, or would remember thee, because the loss was not his,
but mine. Perhaps, if he took thee from Aulus and Pomponia, he would
send thee to me and I could give thee back to them.”
“Vinicius, wouldst thou see me again on the Palatine?” inquired Lygia.
He set his teeth, and answered,--“No. Thou art right. I spoke like a
fool! No!”
And all at once he saw before him a precipice, as it were without
bottom. He was a patrician, a military tribune, a powerful man; but
above every power of that world to which he belonged was a madman whose
will and malignity it was impossible to foresee. Only such people as the
Christians might cease to reckon with Nero or fear him,--people for whom
this whole world, with its separations and sufferings, was as nothing;
people for whom death itself was as nothing. All others had to