Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
will tell him everything.”
“Here thou canst speak openly,” replied Vinicius. “The Apostle was in
the amphitheatre with the people of Petronius. But I will go with you
myself.”
He gave command to bring him a slave’s mantle, and they passed out.
Petronius sighed deeply.
“I wished her to die of that fever,” thought he, “since that would have
been less terrible for Vinicius. But now I am ready to offer a golden
tripod to Esculapius for her health. Ah! Ahenobarbus, thou hast the wish
to turn a lover’s pain into a spectacle; thou, Augusta, wert jealous of
the maiden’s beauty, and wouldst devour her alive because thy Rufius has
perished. Thou, Tigellinus, wouldst destroy her to spite me! We shall
see. I tell you that your eyes will not behold her on the arena, for she
will either die her own death, or I shall wrest her from you as from the
jaws of dogs, and wrest her in such fashion that ye shall not know it;
and as often afterward as I look at you I shall think, These are the
fools whom Caius Petronius outwitted.”
And, self-satisfied, he passed to the triclinium, where he sat down to
supper with Eunice. During the meal a lector read to them the Idyls of
Theocritus. Out of doors the wind brought clouds from the direction of
Soracte, and a sudden storm broke the silence of the calm summer night.
From time to time thunder reverberated on the seven hills, while they,
reclining near each other at the table, listened to the bucolic poet,
who in the singing Doric dialect celebrated the loves of shepherds.
Later on, with minds at rest, they prepared for sweet slumber.
But before this Vinicius returned. Petronius heard of his coming, and
went to meet him.
“Well? Have ye fixed anything new?” inquired he. “Has Nazarius gone to
the prison?”
“He has,” answered the young man, arranging his hair, wet from the rain.
“Nazarius went to arrange with the guards, and I have seen Peter, who
commanded me to pray and believe.”
“That is well. If all goes favorably, we can bear her away to-morrow
night.”
“My manager must be here at daybreak with men.”
“The road is a short one. Now go to rest.”
But Vinicius knelt in his cubiculum and prayed.
At sunrise Niger, the manager, arrived from Corioli, bringing with him,
at the order of Vinicius, mules, a litter, and four trusty men selected
among slaves from Britain, whom, to save appearances, he had left at
an inn in the Subura. Vinicius, who had watched all night, went to meet
him. Niger, moved at sight of his youthful master, kissed his hands and
eyes, saying,--
“My dear, thou art ill, or else suffering has sucked the blood from thy
face, for hardly did I know thee at first.”
Vinicius took him to the interior colonnade, and there admitted him
to the secret. Niger listened with fixed attention, and on his dry,
sunburnt face great emotion was evident; this he did not even try to
master.
“Then she is a Christian?” exclaimed Niger; and he looked inquiringly
into the face of Vinicius, who divined evidently what the gaze of the
countryman was asking, since he answered,--
“I too am a Christian.”
Tears glistened in Niger’s eyes that moment. He was silent for a while;
then, raising his hands, he said,--
“I thank Thee, O Christ, for having taken the beam from eyes which are
the dearest on earth to me.”
Then he embraced the head of Vinicius, and, weeping from happiness, fell
to kissing his forehead. A moment later, Petronius appeared, bringing
Nazarius.
“Good news!” cried he, while still at a distance.
Indeed, the news was good. First, Glaucus the physician guaranteed
Lygia’s life, though she had the same prison fever of which, in the
Tullianum and other dungeons, hundreds of people were dying daily. As
to the guards and the man who tried corpses with red-hot iron, there was
not the least difficulty. Attys, the assistant, was satisfied also.
“We made openings in the coffin to let the sick woman breathe,” said
Nazarius. “The only danger is that she may groan or speak as we pass the
pretorians. But she is very weak, and is lying with closed eyes since
early morning. Besides, Glaucus will give her a sleeping draught
prepared by himself from drugs brought by me purposely from the city.
The cover will not be nailed to the coffin; ye will raise it easily and
take the patient to the litter. We will place in the coffin a long bag
of sand, which ye will provide.”
Vinicius, while hearing these words, was as pale as linen; but he
listened with such attention that he seemed to divine at a glance what
Nazarius had to say.
“Will they carry out other bodies from the prison?” inquired Petronius.
“About twenty died last night, and before evening more will be dead,”
said the youth. “We must go with a whole company, but we will delay
and drop into the rear. At the first corner my comrade will get lame
purposely. In that way we shall remain behind the others considerably.
Ye will wait for us at the small temple of Libitina. May God give a
night as dark as possible!”
“He will,” said Niger. “Last evening was bright, and then a sudden storm
came. To-day the sky is clear, but since morning it is sultry. Every
night now there will be wind and rain.”
“Will ye go without torches?” inquired Vinicius.
“The torches are carried only in advance. In every event, be near the
temple of Libitina at dark, though usually we carry out the corpses only
just before midnight.”
They stopped. Nothing was to be heard save the hurried breathing of
Vinicius. Petronius turned to him,--
“I said yesterday that it would be best were we both to stay at home,
but now I see that I could not stay. Were it a question of flight, there
would be need of the greatest caution; but since she will be borne out
as a corpse, it seems that not the least suspicion will enter the head
of any one.”
“True, true!” answered Vinicius. “I must be there. I will take her from
the coffin myself.”
“Once she is in my house at Corioli, I answer for her,” said Niger.
Conversation stopped here. Niger returned to his men at the inn.
Nazarius took a purse of gold under his tunic and went to the prison.
For Vinicius began a day filled with alarm, excitement, disquiet, and
hope.
“The undertaking ought to succeed, for it is well planned,” said
Petronius. “It was impossible to plan better. Thou must feign suffering,
and wear a dark toga. Do not desert the amphitheatre. Let people see
thee. All is so fixed that there cannot be failure. But--art thou
perfectly sure of thy manager?”
“He is a Christian,” replied Vinicius.
Petronius looked at him with amazement, then shrugged his shoulders, and
said, as if in soliloquy,--
“By Pollux! how it spreads, and commands people’s souls. Under such
terror as the present, men would renounce straightway all the gods
of Rome, Greece, and Egypt. Still, this is wonderful! By Pollux! if I
believed that anything depended on our gods, I would sacrifice six
white bullocks to each of them, and twelve to Capitoline Jove. Spare no
promises to thy Christ.”
“I have given Him my soul,” said Vinicius.
And they parted. Petronius returned to his cubiculum; but Vinicius went
to look from a distance at the prison, and thence betook himself to the
slope of the Vatican hill,--to that hut of the quarryman where he had
received baptism from the hands of the Apostle. It seemed to him that
Christ would hear him more readily there than in any other place; so
when he found it, he threw himself on the ground and exerted all the
strength of his suffering soul in prayer for mercy, and so forgot
himself that he remembered not where he was or what he was doing. In
the afternoon he was roused by the sound of trumpets which came from
the direction of Nero’s Circus. He went out of the hut, and gazed around
with eyes which were as if just opened from sleep.
It was hot; the stillness was broken at intervals by the sound of brass
and continually by the ceaseless noise of grasshoppers. The air had
become sultry, the sky was still clear over the city, but near the
Sabine Hills dark clouds were gathering at the edge of the horizon.
Vinicius went home. Petronius was waiting for him in the atrium.
“I have been on the Palatine,” said he. “I showed myself there
purposely, and even sat down at dice. There is a feast at the house of
Vinicius this evening; I promised to go, but only after midnight, saying
that I must sleep before that hour. In fact I shall be there, and it
would be well wert thou to go also.”
“Are there no tidings from Niger or Nazarius?” inquired Vinicius.
“No; we shall see them only at midnight. Hast noticed that a storm is
threatening?”
“Yes.”
“To-morrow there is to be an exhibition of crucified Christians, but
perhaps rain will prevent it.”
Then he drew nearer and said, touching his nephew’s shoulder,--“But thou
wilt not see her on the cross; thou wilt see her only in Corioli. By
Castor! I would not give the moment in which we free her for all the
gems in Rome. The evening is near.”
In truth the evening was near, and darkness began to encircle the city
earlier than usual because clouds covered the whole horizon. With the
coming of night heavy rain fell, which turned into steam on the stones
warmed by the heat of the day, and filled the streets of the city with
mist. After that came a lull, then brief violent showers.
“Let us hurry!” said Vinicius at last; “they may carry bodies from the
prison earlier because of the storm.”
“It is time!” said Petronius.
And taking Gallic mantles with hoods, they passed through the garden
door to the street. Petronius had armed himself with a short Roman knife
called sicca, which he took always during night trips.
The city was empty because of the storm. From time to time lightning
rent the clouds, illuminating with its glare the fresh walls of houses
newly built or in process of building and the wet flag-stones with which
the streets were paved. At last a flash came, when they saw, after a
rather long road, the mound on which stood the small temple of Libitina,
and at the foot of the mound a group of mules and horses.
“Niger!” called Vinicius, in a low voice.
“I am here, lord,” said a voice in the rain.
“Is everything ready?”
“It is. We were here at dark. But hide yourselves under the rampart, or
ye will be drenched. What a storm! Hail will fall, I think.”
In fact Niger’s fear was justified, for soon hail began to fall, at
first fine, then larger and more frequent. The air grew cold at once.
While standing under the rampart, sheltered from the wind and icy
missiles, they conversed in low voices.
“Even should some one see us,” said Niger, “there will be no suspicion;
we look like people waiting for the storm to pass. But I fear that they
may not bring the bodies out till morning.”
“The hail-storm will not last,” said Petronius. “We must wait even till
daybreak.”
They waited, listening to hear the sound of the procession. The
hail-storm passed, but immediately after a shower began to roar. At
times the wind rose, and brought from the “Putrid Pits” a dreadful odor
of decaying bodies, buried near the surface and carelessly.
“I see a light through the mist,” said Niger,--“one, two, three,--those
are torches. See that the mules do not snort,” said he, turning to the
men.
“They are coming!” said Petronius.
The lights were growing more and more distinct. After a time it was
possible to see torches under the quivering flames.
Niger made the sign of the cross, and began to pray. Meanwhile the
gloomy procession drew nearer, and halted at last in front of the temple
of Libitina. Petronius, Vinicius, and Niger pressed up to the rampart in
silence, not knowing why the halt was made. But the men had stopped only
to cover their mouths and faces with cloths to ward off the stifling