 CHAPTER XXI As Vinicius grew nearer he saw that it was more easy to reach Rome than to get inside of the walls. He could scarcely force a way through the Appian road because of the struggling multitudes. In the Temple of Mars, situated just at the Appian gate, the throng broke through the doors to find shelter for the night. In the cemeteries the larger tombs had all been seized after severe fighting, often accompanied with bloodshed. The disorder in Ostronium gave but a mild foretaste of what was happening under the walls of the city itself. All regard for authority, for rank, for family ties, for differences of classes had ceased to slaves were seen cuddling citizens, gladiators intoxicated with the wine they had plundered in the Emporium, gathered in large crowds and with wild cries ran through the square, chasing the people, trampling upon them, robbing them. A number of barbarians exposed for sale in the city had fled from the booths of their vendors. The conflagration and destruction of the city were for them the end of slavery and the hour of vengeance, while the citizens who had lost all their property in the fire were lifting supplicating hands to the gods. These slaves, with howls of joy, fell upon them, dispersed the crowds, tore the clothing from the shoulders of the people, and carried off the younger women. Slaves who had served long years in Rome, tramps with no clothing save woolen rags on their loins, terrible figures from the alleys who were rarely seen on the streets in daytime, and whose very existence would have been unsuspected, joined in these acts of violence. Among them were Asians, Africans, Greeks, Thracians, Germans, and Britons shouting in all the languages of the earth, wild and disillute, maddened with the thought that the hour had come when they could repay themselves for years of suffering and misery. Amid that awful crowd, in the glare of the sun and of the fire, glittered the helmets of the Praetorians, whose protection was sought by the more peaceful citizens, and who were forced into frequent hand-to-hand conflicts with the bestialized hordes. Venisius had seen many cities stormed, but never had he witnessed a spectacle where despair, fear, pain, groans, barbaric joy, madness, rage, and license had mingled together in so monstrous a chaos. Above this weltering, maddened human crowd roared the fire, blazing on the hilltops of the greatest city in the world, scattering confusion over it with its fiery breath and enveloping it in smoke, which shut out the blue of the heaven. The young tribune putting forth his utmost strength, risking his life at every moment at last gained the Appian Gate. He found, however, that he could not reach the city through the quarter of the Porta Capena, because of the crowd and of the heat which beyond the gate made the whole air tremble. At that time the bridge at the Triginia Gate, opposite to the Temple of Bonadia, had not been built. To cross the Tiber one had to force his way to the Sublicius Bridge, or, in other words, to pass around the Aventine, through a part of the city which was now one sea of flames. This was impossible. Venisius saw that he must return towards Ostronium, turn from the Appian Way, cross the river below the city, and reach the Via Portuensis, which led directly to the trans-Tiber. This was no easy task, on account of the still greater uproar on the Appian Way. He could only cut a passage with his sword, but he was unarmed. He had left Antium from Caesar's Villa at the first news of the fire. At the fountain of Mercury, however, he recognized a centurion of the Praetorians, who, at the head of a few score of men, was defending the approaches to the grounds of the Temple. Venisius ordered him to ride behind him. Recognizing a Tribune and an Augustali, the centurion dared not disobey. Venisius himself took command of the detachment. Forgetting for the moment Paul's precept of love for one's neighbor, he cut and slashed through the crowd with murderous effect. Curses and stones were hurled at him as he pressed onward to the less obstructed spots. His advance was slow, the people would not yield, but with angry odes reviled Caesar and the Praetorians. In some places the crowd assumed the defensive. Venisius's ears were assailed by accusations that Nero had set fire to the city. Open threats of death to Caesar and to Papia were uttered. Shouts of Mount a bank! Actor! Matricide came from all sides. Some cried that he ought to be dragged down to the Tiber, others that Rome had shown enough for barrence. These threats might at any moment merge into open riot. Only a leader was needed. Meanwhile the mobs rage turned in despair against the Praetorians, who could not extricate themselves from the crowd, because the road was obstructed by huge piles of goods rescued from the conflagration, cases and barrels of provisions, the more costly furniture and utensils, children's cradles, beds, wagons, and litters. Here and there hand to hand conflicts broke out. At last the Praetorians vanquished the unarmed mob and hurled them back. Overcoming all obstacles along the Latin, Numitian, Ardian, Lavinian, and Ostian roads, passing on the way, gardens, villas, temples, and cemeteries, Venisius reached the village called Vicus Alexandri. Here he crossed the Tiber. There was more space now and less smoke, but there was no lack of fugitives even here. From them he learned that only a few alleys of the trans-Tiber had been invaded by the fire, but that in these nothing could escape. Burning torches had been purposely hurled into the houses which their bearers allowed no one to extinguish, for they shouted that they were acting under orders. The young tribune had no doubt that it was Caesar who had given the orders, and the vengeance clamored for by the crowds seemed to him right and just. What worse had ever been done by Mithridatis or the most fiendish enemies of Rome. The measure was more than filled. Nero's madness had grown too monstrous. The security of human life was impossible while he lived. Venisius believed that Nero's hour had struck, that the falling ruins of the city should overwhelm the Mount of Bank and all his crimes. A man brave enough to place himself at the head of that desperate mob might bring this about at once. Daring thoughts crowded upon Venisius. Suppose he should be that man. His family, which up to recent times had counted a series of consuls, was renowned in Rome. The mob needed but a man. May, once before, because of a death sentence inflicted upon the four hundred slaves of the Prefect Padanius, Rome had barely escaped riot and civil war. What might not happen today in the face of that terrible disaster, surpassing all disasters inflicted upon Rome for eight centuries? Whoever summoned the quietes to arms, thought Venisius, would certainly overthrow Nero and clothe himself with the purple. Why should he not do so? Not one of the Augustalis was stronger, bolder, or younger. True, Nero commanded thirty legions stationed on the frontiers of the Empire, but would not these very legions and their commander rise at the news of the burning of Rome and of its temple? Then he, Venisius, might become Caesar. Whispers were current among the Augustalis that a soothsayer had predicted that Otho would wear the purple. Was he Otho's inferior? Christ himself might help him with his divine power. Perhaps this very inspiration came from him. Would it were so, said Venisius to himself, he would avenge himself on Nero for the peril to which Ligia had been thrown and for his own sufferings. He would introduce the reign of justice and truth, would spread the creed of Christ from the Euphrates to the mist-enveloped coasts of Britain and would clothe Ligia in purple and make her the mistress of the earth. These thoughts bursting in his head like sparks from a burning house died like sparks. The first thing to do was to rescue Ligia. He could now view the conflagration from close quarters. New fear seized him, in face of that sea of fire and smoke, in face of the terrible reality, the hope that Peter the Apostle would save Ligia died away in his heart. Despair fell upon him once more when he reached the Via Portuensis, which led straight to the trans-Tiber. Not till he arrived at the gate did he recover himself. Here he learned again what the fugitives had already told him, that the greater part of the quarter had not yet been reached by the flames, though in some few places they had already crossed the river. Nevertheless, the trans-Tiber was full of smoke and fleeing crowds. The streets were more impassable than ever, because the people, having more time, bore out and rescued more of their property. The main street was choked up. Around the Nomachia great piles were stacked. The narrower alleys choked with denser smoke were entirely inaccessible. The inhabitants were fleeing by thousands. Terrible sights met his eyes. More than once, two human columns, flowing from opposite directions, and meeting in a narrow passage, crushed together and fought to the death. Members of the same family lost one another in the tumult. Mothers called despairingly for their children. Venetius shuddered at the thought of what might be going on nearer to the fire. Amid the noise and the confusion, it was difficult to ask questions or to hear the replies. Rolling across the river came new billows of smoke, so black and heavy that they followed one another along the ground, covering houses, people, everything with the darkness of night. And then again the wind from the conflagration would disperse them, and Venetius would move further towards the alley where stood the House of Linus. The sultry warmth of July, increased by the heat from the burning quarters, became unbearable. Eyes smarted from the smoke, breath failed in human breasts. Even the inhabitants who, hoping that the flames would not cross the river, remained in their houses, now began to leave them. Every hour the crowd augmented. The Praetorians, following Venetius lagged behind. Someone in the crowd wounded his horse with a hammer. It threw up its bloody head, reared and refused for their obedience. His rich tunic betrayed the Augustali, shouts a rose of death to Nero and his incendiaries. It was a moment of fearful peril, for hundreds of hands were raised against Venetius, but his affrighted horse carried him away, trampling the crowds on all sides. And now came a new billow of black smoke, filling the street with darkness. Venetius, seeing that further progress was impossible, leaped to the ground and continued his flight a foot, gliding by the walls and a non-waiting till the pursuing crowd had passed him. He said to himself that his efforts were all in vain. Ligia might already be out of the city, might already have saved herself by flight. Easier were it to find a pin on the seashore than her in this tumult and chaos. Even at the price of his life, however, he determined to reach the house of Linus. At times he stopped and rubbed his eyes, with a piece torn from his tunic he covered his nose and his lips, and ran on. As he neared the river the heat grew more intense. Knowing that the fire had begun at the Circus Maximus, his first thought was that the heat came from its burning debris, or from the ox market, or from Velabram. Their proximity to the Circus would make them all already prey to the flames. But now he could hardly stand the heat. A fugitive, an old man on crutches, the last whom Venetius noticed, shouted as he passed, Go thou not to the bridge of Cestius! In truth further self-deception was impossible. At the turn towards the Jewish quarter where stood the house of Linus the young tribune saw fire shooting from clouds of smoke. Not only was the island burning, but the trans-Tiber also, or at least the further end of the alley in which Ligia lived. And now he recalled that the house of Linus stood in the middle of a garden. Between the garden and the Tiber was an open clearing. This thought comforted him. The fire would be halted at the clearing. He ran on, though every blast of wind now enveloped him not merely in smoke, but thousands of sparks which might reach the other end of the alley and cut off his retreat. At last, through the smoky curtain he caught sight of the cypresses in the garden of Linus. The houses beyond the clearing were burning like piles of wood, but the little island of Linus stood as yet untouched. Vinicius cast his grateful eyes to heaven and leaped forward, though the very air was burning. The door was shut, he pushed it open and rushed in. Not a soul was in the garden. The house seemed equally deserted. They may have fainted from the smoke and the heat, thought Vinicius, and he began to call, Ligia! Ligia! Silence was his only reply. In that silence not could be heard saved the roar of the distant conflagration. Ligia! Suddenly his ears were struck by the ominous sounds which once before he had heard in this garden. The menagerie on the neighboring island near the temple of Escalapius had evidently caught fire. Here lions and beasts of all kinds roared out there afright. Vinicius shivered from head to foot. For a second time, when all his thoughts were occupied with Ligia, these awful voices had sounded in his ears, as a presage of misfortune, as a strange omen of future woe. The impression was only momentary. The roar of the fire, more terrible than that of the beasts, forced him to turn his thoughts elsewhere. Ligia had not yet answered his calls, but she might have swooned away in the threatened building or have been overcome by the smoke. Vinicius rushed inside. The little hall was empty and dark with smoke. Feeling for the doors which led to the sleeping-room he perceived the light of a torch, and springing thither saw a sanctuary where, instead of heathen statues, was a cross. Beneath the cross burned the torch. The first thought of the young convert was that the cross had sent him the torch to aid him in his search. He seized it and looked around for the sleeping-rooms. Finding one he lifted the curtain and peeped in. The room was empty. Vinicius, however, was certain that he had discovered Ligia's bed-chamber, because her garments hung along the wall on nails, and on the bed lay a capitium, a close garment worn by women next to the skin. Vinicius grasped the garment and pressed it to his lips. Then, throwing it over his shoulder, he continued his search. The house was small, so that in a short time he went through every room and even descended into the cellar. Search as he would, he found no one. It was only too evident that Ligia, Linus, and Ursus, with other inhabitants of the quarter, had sought safety in flight. I must look for them in the crowds, beyond the gates of the city, thought Vinicius. It had not greatly surprised him that he had not met them on the Portoensis Road, for they might have gone out from the trans-tiber from the opposite side, in the direction of the Vatican Hill. In any case they had escaped destruction from the fire. Vinicius was greatly relieved. He appreciated it is true the terrible dangers that they had escaped, but the thought of the superhuman strength of Ursus was a comfort to him. I must flee from here, he said to himself, across the gardens of Domicius, into the gardens of Agrippina. I will surely find them there. I need not fear the smoke there, because the wind is blowing from the Sabine Hill. The pressing moment had now come when he was forced to think of his own safety. Waves of flame were coming nearer and nearer from the destruction of the island, and clouds of smoke almost entirely enveloped the alley. The torch which had lighted his way was extinguished by a gust of wind. Rushing into the street, Vinicius ran at full speed towards the Via Portoensis, in the direction which he had come. The flames seemed to pursue him with their fiery breath, now enveloping him in fresh clouds of smoke, now pouring sparks upon him, which fell on his hair, neck, and clothing. His tunic began to burn in spots, but he paid no attention to this, and rushed on lest the smoke would suffocate him. His mouth was choked with soot, his throat and lungs seemed on fire, the blood rushed to his head. At times everything about him seemed red, even the smoke itself. He thought, this is a living fire, may happen as better I should throw myself down and perish. His efforts exhausted him more and more. His head, neck, and shoulders streamed with perspiration, which scalded him like boiling water. Had it not been for Ligia's name, which he repeated mentally, and for her garment, which he had bound across his mouth, he would have fallen to the ground. A few moments later he could no longer recognize the streets through which he ran. Gradually he lost consciousness, discovering only that he must rush onward, for in the open field Ligia was awaiting him, whom Peter the Apostle had promised to him. Suddenly he was seized by a strange conviction, half feverish, like a vision before death, that he must see her, wed her, and then expire. On and on he ran, staggering like a drunken man from one side of the street to the other. Suddenly a change came over the terrible conflagration sweeping over the city, places which had been merely smoldering burst forth into one great sea of flame. The wind no longer bore smoke along with it. The smoke which had already accumulated vanished in a mad eddy of heated air. But now came myriads of sparks, so that it seemed to Vinicius as if he were running through a cloud of fire. However, he could see ahead of him clearer than before, and just as he was ready to fall with exhaustion he beheld the end of the street. This sight gave him new courage and strength. Passing the corner he found himself in the street which led to the Via Portuensis and the Codetan Field. The sparks ceased to pursue him. He knew that if he could reach the Via Portuensis he would be safe, even if he fell in a faint. At the end of the street he saw a cloud which veiled the exit. If that is smoke, thought he, I cannot pass through it. He gathered up all his strength and rushed onward. As he ran he threw away his tunic, which had caught fire from the sparks, and was burning like the shirt of Nessus, and he ran onward naked save for the garment wound about his head and over his mouth. As he approached the cloud he perceived that what he had taken for smoke was only dust, from the midst of which came the sound of human voices and cries. The mob is pillaging the houses, said Vinicius to himself, but he ran in the direction of the voices. In any case people were there who might give him help. In this hope he shouted for help at the top of his voice, but this was his last effort. Lurid light stanced before his eyes, the breath left his lungs, strength failed him, and he fell. He was overheard, however, or rather some people saw him. Two men ran to his assistants with gourds full of water. Vinicius, exhausted though he was, had not lost consciousness. He seized a gourd with both hands and eagerly drank its contents. Thanks, said he, please help me to my feet, I can walk on unaided. The other workmen poured water on his head, then the two raised him from the ground and carried him to their fellows, who immediately surrounded him and questioned him as to whether he had suffered any serious hurt. Their solicitude astonished Vinicius. Good people, who are you? We are pulling down the buildings so that the fire may not reach the via Portoensis, answered one of the toilers. You aided me when I had fallen, I thank you. We are not allowed to refuse help, answered a chorus of voices. Vinicius, who all the morning had seen brutal crowds plundering and murdering, now looked more attentively at the faces around him and said, May Christ reward you. Praised be his name, exclaimed a chorus of voices. What of Linus, inquired Vinicius? But he was unable to finish the question or hear the answer, for he fainted from emotion and from his fearful exertion. He came to himself only in the Codetan field, in a garden surrounded by a crowd of men and women. The first words which he uttered were, Where is Linus? There was a pause, and then a voice known to Vinicius said, He went out by the no-minting gate two days ago. Peace be with thee, O King of Persia! Vinicius raised himself to a sitting posture and beheld Kylo before him. Thy house, O Lord, said the Greek, must have been destroyed, for the Carini are in flames, but thou wilt always be as rich as Midas. O what a misfortune! The Christians, O son of Sarapis, long ago foretold that fire would destroy the city, but Linus, with the daughter of Jove, is in Ostroneum. O what a disaster to this city! Vinicius grew faint again. As thou seen them, he asked, I saw thee, O Lord, praise be to Christ and all the gods that I can repay thy favours with good news, but, O Cyrus, I will repay thee more, I swear by this burning Rome. The shades of evening had fallen, but it was light as day in the garden, for the configuration had increased. It seemed now that not more sections of the city were burning, but that the entire city was infellipped in flames. The heavens were red as far as the eye could see, and a red light closed down upon the world. The colors of the burning city illuminated the sky as far as the eye could reach. The full moon, rising behind the hills, took on the hue of molten brass from the glare which pervaded the atmosphere, and seemed to be staring with bewildered wonder at the perishing conqueror of the world. Rose-colored stars glittered in the rosy deeps of the firmament, but reversing the conditions of the normal night, the earth was brighter than the sky. Rome, like a gigantic funeral pyre, lit up the whole Campania. The blood-colored light fell upon far away mountains, cities, villas, temples, and monuments. On the aqueducts, which extended from the neighboring mountains into the city, were crowds of people, swarming thither for safety or for a vantage point whereon to gaze upon the conflagration. Fresh districts of the city were being lapped up by tongues of fire, that criminal hands were adding fuel to the flames was evident from the fact that they broke out here and there far from their original center. From the seven hills whereon Rome was founded flowed billows of fire into the dense settlements in the valley, into five and six-story houses full of shops and booths, into movable wooden amphitheaters built for all sorts of public diversion, into storehouses for olives, wood, grain, nuts, and pine cones whose seeds were eaten by the poor, and into storehouses filled with clothing which the generosity of Caesar periodically distributed among the starving rabble that huddled into the narrow alleys. Here the fire, finding inflammable materials ready to hand, became a series of explosions. Whole streets were licked up with astonishing avidity. Spectators who were encamped outside the city or who stood upon the aqueducts could determine by the color of the flames what it was they had lit upon. The furious strength of the wind tore out from the burning abyss thousands, nay millions, of burning walnut and almond shells which shot upward into the sky like brilliant butterflies to burst with a crackling report or to be driven into the remotest parts of the city or upon the aqueducts or the fields in the outlying country. All hopes of staying the conflagration had been abandoned. The confusion increased with every moment. On one side the fleeing population poured out of the city gates, while on the other the peasants and villagers and semi-savage shepherds of the Campania came rushing Romeward, lured by hopes of plunder. Here, there, and everywhere rose the cry, Rome is perishing! The expected destruction of the city relaxed all law and all the bonds that had knit the population into an integer. What wrecked the mob consisting largely of slaves and aliens for the sovereignty of Rome? The ruin of the city could but free them. They exalted in it with wild menaces, robbery and rapine hovered in the air. The sight of the burning city stayed the hand of the mob for the moment, but an outbreak of slaughter might begin whenever Rome had fallen. Hundreds of thousands of slaves, oblivious to the fact that Rome was not merely a locality but the master of legions all over the world, awaited but a signal and a leader. The name of Spartacus flew from mouth to mouth. But Spartacus was dead. Citizens mustered together and seized such arms as they could find. At all the gates monstrous rumors gained credence. Some asserted that Vulcan, at the command of Jupiter, was hurling destruction from the bowels of the earth, others that Vesta was avenging Rubria. Men who thought thus made no effort to save anything from the wreck but flocked to the temples and besought the mercy of the gods. The most general belief was that Nero had ordered the burning of Rome to rid it of the stenches that arose from the subura and to erect upon its ruins a new city which he would call Neroia. Madness seized upon the populace at this thought, had a leader but taken advantage of that abulation of feeling as Vinicius feared he might, Nero's hour would have struck many years sooner than it actually did. It was rumored also that Caesar had gone insane, that he had ordered an indiscriminate slaughter of the people by Praetorians and gladiators. Others again swore by the gods that the wild beasts of the Menageries were to be let loose at the command of Bronzebeard. Lions with burning mains, elephants and bisons, crazed with fear, had been seen hurling themselves upon the struggling crowds of men and women. Nor was this without some foundation in truth. In some places elephants senting the approaching danger had burst the barriers of their pens and had crashed through the streets in a direction opposite to that of the fire, carrying destruction with them in their flight. It was estimated that tens of thousands of citizens had already perished. In fact this was no exaggeration. Many distracted by the loss of property or dear ones had cast themselves despairing into the flames. Others were suffocated by the smoke. In the center of the city, with the capital on one side, the Quirinal, the Viminal and the Esquiline on the other, and also between the Palatine and the Celian Hill, where the streets were most densely thronged, the flames burst out simultaneously in so many places that people fleeing this way or that cast themselves unexpectedly upon a new wall of fire and perished miserably in a flood of flame. Distracted, bewildered, terror-stricken, the people knew not which way to turn, the streets were piled up with goods and chattels. Some of the narrower ones were hopelessly blocked. Refugees who found their way to the squares and markets, near the place where subsequently arose the Flavian Amphitheater, near the Temple of the Earth, near the Portico of Sylvia, or higher yet near the temples of Juno and Lucinia, between the Clivus Vibrius and the old Esquiline Gate, succumbed to the awful heat. Places where the flames could not reach were afterwards found to be choked up with hundreds of charred bodies. Some of the victims had sought vainly to shield themselves beneath slabs of paving-stones, which they had torn up from the streets, not a family in that portion of the city escaped without the loss of some members. All along the walls and at the gates, and on the highways outside, went up the wails of women calling vainly on the names of dear ones who had been burned or trampled to death. Thus while some supplicated heaven, others blasphemed the gods, holding them responsible for this awful disaster. To the Temple of Jupiter liberators streamed old men who cried without stretched arms, if thou be a liberator, save thy altars and save the city. But the wrath of the mob was turned chiefly against the ancient Roman deities, whom they held to be especially charged with the destinies of the city. They had failed in the hour of need, hence insults were their only portion. On the Via Asenaria a procession of Egyptian priests happened to be carrying the statue of Isis, which they had rescued from the temple near the Silamontane Gate. The mob scattered the priests, seized the chariot, grew it to the Appian Gate, and placed the statue in the Temple of Mars, beating back the priests of that deity who sought to restrain them. The names of Serapis, Baal, and Jehovah were invoked. The adherents of these alien gods swarmed out of the alleys near the Sabura and the Trans-Tiber, filling the fields outside the walls with their cries and wails. A triumphant note was sometimes heard above the clamor, while some of the populace joined in a chorus glorifying the Lord of the World. Others were incensed and sought to repress them by violence. Hymns floated upwards from some places, sung by men in the prime of life, by old men, by women and children, marvelous and solemn hymns whose meaning they could not grasp, but in which arose continually the refrain, Behold the judge cometh in the day of wrath and disaster! Thus the burning city was enveloped by billows of unquiet, wakeful beings, like a tempest-tossed sea. Neither despair nor blasphemy, nor hymn, however, was of any avail. The catastrophe seemed to be as irresistible, as complete, and as pitiless as predestination itself. Stores of hemp caught fire around Pompey's amphitheater, together with ropes and all variety of machines used in the circuses and arenas. Then followed barrels of pitch used for smearing the ropes, which were stored away in adjoining buildings. Soon the entire city, on the hither side of the campus martius, was so brilliantly lighted by yellow flames, that it almost seemed to the half-crazed spectators as though the order of day and night had been reversed, so that they were gazing upon sunshine. But in the end a hideous bloody gleam extinguished all other colors. Enormous fountains and pillars of flame shot up to the fiery heavens from that fiery sea. Their tops spread out into branches and feathers. These the winds bore away, changing them into golden threads or hairs or sparks, and sweeping them onward over the campania towards the albin hills. The night grew brighter. The air seemed pervaded not only with light but with heat. The tiber flowed on a river of flame. The city had become a pandemonium. The conflagration spread wider and wider, stormed the hills, flooded the level-places, submerged the valleys, raged, roared, and thundered. Venisius had been taken to the house of Macronus, a weaver, who washed him and supplied him with food and clothing. The young tribune soon felt his strength returning. He determined to set out that very night on a further search for Linus. Macronus, who was a Christian, corroborated Kylo's statement that Linus had gone with the High Priest Clement to Ostronium. Here the apostle Peter was to baptize a number of converts. It was known to Christians in that section of the city that two days previous Linus had entrusted the care of his house to a man called Gaius. To Venisius this was an assurance that neither Ligia nor Ursus had remained in the house, but had also gone to Ostronium. His mind was much relieved, as Linus was an old man, too old to walk every day from the trans-tiber to the far-off no-minton gate and back again. It was almost certain that he had lodged for the past few days with one or more of the Christians encamped outside the walls. Ligia and Ursus must have been with him. Hence they had escaped the fire, which had scarcely touched the other slope of the Esquiline. In all this Venisius saw a special dispensation of Christ, who had watched over him. Love stronger than ever filled his heart, he vowed that he would repay those marks of favor by the devotion of his whole life. But all the more anxious did he become to reach Ostronium to find Ligia, to find Linus and Peter. He would take them away with him to some of his estates, if necessary, to Sicily. Rome is burning, a few days more, and it would be a heap of ashes. Why should he stay in the midst of such disaster and among a frenzied rabble? On his estates were troops of willing slaves adequate for protection. His friends would be surrounded by the quiet of the country and live in peace under Christ's wing and the blessing of Peter, if he could only find them. But that was no easy task. Venisius recalled the difficulty with which he had journeyed from the Appian Way to the trans-Tiber, the time wasted in circling around to reach the Via Portuensis. He decided that this time he would go around the city in the opposite direction. Through the triumphal way it was possible to reach the Emillian Bridge by going along the river, then passing the Penisian Hill along the Campus Maritus, and by the gardens of Pompey, Luculus and Solus, and finally pushing forward to the Via Nomintana. But although this was the shortest route, both Macronus and Kylo advised him not to take it. True, the fire had not reached that part of the city, but it was more than likely that all the market squares and the streets would be blockaded by people and furniture. Kylo counseled him to go through the Agur Vadikhanis. To the Flaminian Gate crossed the river at that point, and push on outside the walls beyond the gardens of Asilius to the Solarian Gate. Venisius, after some thought, accepted the advice. Macronus had to remain behind to look after his house. He procured two mules, one of which might pass to Ligia in case she was found. He would have added a slave, but Venisius demurred, as he expected that the first detachment of Praetorians whom he met on the way would pass under his command. Kylo and the young Tribune set out through the Pagas Gianiculensis to the triumphal way. There, too, were encampments of all sorts in the open places. They found the less difficulty in pushing through them that most of the inhabitants had now fled through the Via Portuensis in the direction of the sea. Beyond the Gate of Septimus they rode between the river and the magnificent gardens of Domitia, whose huge cypresses were reddened by the glow of the fire as by a sunset. The road became freer. Here and there they found nothing to impede their progress, save the cityward flow of eager rustics. Venisius urged his mule onward. Kylo, following in the rear, kept muttering to himself. So we have left the fire behind, but it is burning our shoulders. Never was seen so great a light upon this road after nightfall. O Zeus, unless thou sendest a rainstorm to quench that fire, thou hast no love for Rome. The power of man will not suffice. And such a city, a city before which Greece and the whole world bowed submission. And now the first Greek who happens along may roast his beans in its ashes. Who would have ever expected this? There will be no more Rome nor Roman patricians. When its ashes grow cold, who so wills may walk over them and whistle over them and whistle without danger. Ye gods to think of whistling over a city that ruled the world. No Greek nor barbarian would have dared to hope for this. Yet now they may whistle for ashes whether those of a herdsman's fire or of a burned city are only ashes to be blown away by the wind as it listeth. He turned round and gazed at the waste of flames. A malicious joy was in his eyes. Disparishing, he cried, disparishing off the face of the earth. Willow will the world now send its grain, its olive oil, its money. What tyrant will squeeze gold and tears out of it. Fire cannot consume marble, but it crumbles it into dust. The capital will be ruined, the Palatine will be ruined. O Zeus! Rome was a shepherd and the other nations were the sheep. If the shepherd were hungry, he slew a sheep, ate the flesh, and offered the skin to thee, O father of the gods. Who, O cloud-compeller, will now do the slaying. Into whose hands wilt thou place the shepherd's crook? Rome is burning even as though thou had struck it with a thunderbolt. Make haste, cried Vinicius, why loiterous thou. Master, I am weeping over Rome, the city of Jupiter. They rode on in silence. The roaring flames were behind them, the whirring of birds' wings around them, doves from their multitudinous nests in the villas and the small towns of the Campania, seabirds from the shore, field-birds from the interior, evidently mistaking the glare of the fire for sunlight, were flying in flocks to the scene of the conflagration. Vinicius was the first to break the silence. Where were thou when the fire broke out? Master, I was on my way to my friend Euryceus, a shopkeeper near the Circus Maximus. I was pondering over the teachings of Christ when the cry of fire arose. Crowds flocked to the Circus, some for rescue, some through curiosity. But when the flames surrounded the Circus itself and broke out in other places, each had to look out for himself. And didst thou see people throwing torches into houses? What have I not seen, O grandson of Anius? I saw people fighting their way through the crowds with drawn swords. I have seen pitched battles. I have seen the in-drails of men and women scattered on the pavement. Thou wouldst have thought the barbarians had captured the city and were putting it to the sword. People cried out that the end of the world had come. Some lost their heads, and forgetting to flee, waited stupidly for the flames to devour them. Some were bewildered, some held in very despair, some again held for joy. Master, there be wicked folk who know not the true worth of your beneficent rule, nor of those just laws whereby ye are enabled to take from others and give to yourselves. These folk cannot submit to the will of God. Venisius, preoccupied with his own thoughts, did not notice the irony in Kylo's words. A shudder ran through him at the thought that Lygia might be in the midst of that weltering chaos, in those terrible streets whose pavements reeked with human entrails. Though ten times at least he had asked of Kylo all he knew, he once more turned to him. Didst thou see them with thine own eyes in Ostronium? Barely I did, O son of Venus. I saw the maiden, the worthy Lygian, the saintly Linus and Apostle Peter. Before the fire broke out, before the fire broke out, O Mithra! Venisius could not suppress a doubt that the old man was lying, reigning in his mule he asked, with threatening brow, what were thou doing there? The question embarrassed Kylo. Like many others he had thought that the destruction of Rome meant the destruction of the Roman Empire, but face to face with Venisius at that moment he remembered that the young tribune had forbidden him under pain of some terrible penalty to watch the Christians and especially Linus and Lygia. Master, he replied, wherefore wilt thou not believe that I love thee? I was in Ostronium because I am already half a Christian. Pyrrho hath taught me esteem for virtue rather than for philosophy. More and more do I cleave to godly people, and I am poor. Many at time, O Jove, when thou would at endium I have starved over my studies. Therefore I sat on the walls of Ostronium, for the Christians, poor though they be, distribute more alms than the rest of the Romans. Venisius was softened by this plausible answer. Nor as thou not, he asked in a milder tone, where Linus dwelleth at present, once thou didst punish me severely for curiosity. Venisius rode on in silence. Master, said Kylo after a period, but for me thou wouldst never have found the maiden, and now, if again we find her, though wilt not forget the needy philosopher, I will give thee a house with a vineyard at Amariola. I will thank thee, O Hercules, with a vineyard. I thank thee, yea, verily, a house with a vineyard. They had now reached the Vatican hill, gleaming ruddy red from the fire, gaining the Normachia. They turned to the right, so that they might pass the Vatican field to the river, and crossing that reached the Flaminian gate. Suddenly Kylo reigned in his mule. Master, he said, I have an idea. Speak, commanded Venisius, midway between the Daniculum and the Vatican, just beyond Agrippina's gardens, our quarries whence were taken stones and sand to build the Circus of Nero. Ark and Master, the Jews, who as thou knowest abound in the trans-Tiber, have begun cruel persecutions of the Christians. Thou rememberest in the time of the god like Claudius there were disturbances which forced Caesar to banish the Jews from Rome, but now that they have returned and feel safe under the protection of the Augusta, they have waxed bolder in their attacks upon the Christians. I know this. I myself have witnessed it. True, no edict has been issued against the Christians, but the Jews defame them to the prefect of the city, accusing them of murdering infants, of worshiping an ass, of preaching a religion not approved by the Senate. Likewise, they waylay them or attack them in their houses of prayer with such ferocity that the Christians are obliged to hide away. Well, what art thou coming to? Master, to this. Though the synagogues stand openly in the trans-Tiber, the Christians fleeing from persecution can pray only in secret, and a symbol in deserted sheds outside the walls or in sandpits. The Christians of the trans-Tiber chose the quarry where excavations were made for the building of the Circus, and various houses along the riverfront. Now, while Rome is burning, doubtless the Christians are praying. We shall find a multitude of them in the quarry. Let us go thither along the road. But, was Vinicius' impatient retort, thou hast told me that Linus went to Ostronium. Thou hast promised me a house with a vineyard in Elmeriola. Therefore would I seek the maiden wheresoever there is a chance of finding her. Who knows if they did not return to the trans-Tiber after the fire. They may have gone around the city even as we are doing. Linus has a house, but chance he wished to approach it in order to learn whether the fire had reached that portion of the city. If they have returned, I swear to thee by Persephone that they are now engaged in prayer at the quarry. If not, we shall obtain tidings of them. Thou art right, lead on, said the Tribune. Without a moment's hesitation, Kylo turned to the left towards the hill. As they passed it they lost sight of burning Rome. All the neighboring heights were lit up with the glow. They themselves were in the shade, passing the circus they still kept to the left. At last they came in sight of a dark passage. Through that darkness Vinicius beheld the gleam of many lanterns. Here they are, said Kylo. There will be more to-day than ever, for their other houses of prayer are either burned down or filled with smoke, as is every house in the trans-Tiber. Hark! said Vinicius, I hear singing. And in fact voices were wafted to them from the dark opening. Into that opening lanterns disappeared one after the other, but from all sides new lantern-bearers appeared. In a short time Vinicius and Kylo found themselves part of a multitude, all streaming toward the opening. Kylo leaped from his mule and beckoned to a youth. I am a priest and a bishop, he said. Hold our mules, and thou wilt receive my blessing and the remittance of thy sins. Without waiting for an answer he thrust the reins into the lad's hands. Then with Vinicius he joined the moving throngs. Reaching the quarry they pushed through the dark passage by the aid of their dark lanterns until they arrived at a large cave evidently formed by the recent removal of stone for the encircling walls all looked freshly cut. Here it was somewhat brighter than in the passage. Burning torches assisted the rays of lanterns and tapers, and enabled Vinicius to discern a kneeling congregation with uplifted hands. He did not see Ligia nor the Apostle Peter nor Linus. All around him were solemn and expectant faces. Fear was depicted on some, hope on others. The light glowed on the whites of their raised eyes, perspiration trickled down their chalky foreheads. Some sang hymns, others feverishly repeated the name of Christ, others beat their breasts. All were evidently awaiting some important and imminent development. The hymn had now ceased. Above the congregation, in a niche made by the removal of a stone, appeared Vinicius's old acquaintance, Crispus, his face pale and set as with a fanatic enthusiasm. All eyes turned to him with eager expectation. He began by blessing the assembly, then raising his voice almost to a shout. He poured out a torrent of words. Repent ye your sins. The hour has come. Lo, the Lord hath sent down devouring flames upon Babylon, the city of crime and debauchery. The hour of judgment has struck. The hour of wrath. The hour of universal calamity. The Lord hath promised to return. Soon shall ye see him. He will come not as the lamb whose blood was offered up for your sins, but as a terrible judge who in his justice will cast sinners and infidels into the pit. Woe then to the world. Woe to the sinners. There will be no mercy for them. Lo, I see thee, Christ. Showers of stars are falling to the earth. The sun is darkened. Abysses yawn in the earth. The dead rise from their graves. But thou art moving amid the sound of trumpets and legions of angels, amid thunders and lightnings. I see thee. I hear thee, O Christ. Here he was silent. Lifting up his face, he seemed to espy something distant and terrible. At that moment a muffled rumble was heard from underground. Once, twice, a tenth time, whole streets of burning houses collapsed with a crash. But the greater number of the Christians took these noises as tokens that the terrible hour was at hand. For a belief in the second advent of Christ and the end of the world was common among them. Now the conflagration of the city confirmed that belief. Terror of God took hold of the multitude. Here and there voices called out, Lo, the day of judgment is at hand. Some of the people covered their faces with their hands, thinking that the earth was about to be shaken to its very foundation, and from its fissures hellish monsters would emerge and cast themselves upon the sinners. Others cried aloud, Christ have mercy on us, save you, have pity. Some confessed their sins aloud. Finally some cast themselves into one another's arms, so that each might have someone near the heart in the moment of affliction. But there were also some whose faces shone with joy, with smiles of unearthly happiness, and who showed no fear. In some places were heard voices. These were from people who, in their religious exaltation, uttered strange words in unknown tongues. There was one in a deep corner who called out, Awake, O thou that sleepest! Above all that commotion the voice of Christmas was heard. Beware, beware! At times there was silence when all held their breath. They seemed expectant of some coming event. Simultaneously was heard the distant thunder of falling houses. The groans, prayers, cries, and shouts were renewed. Oh, save you, have mercy! Then Christmas lifted up his voice and cried, Cast away all earthly goods! Soon there will not be earth enough beneath your feet for standing room. Cast away all earthly love, for God will destroy those who value above him wife or child. Woe to him who loves the creature more than the creator! Woe to the strong! Woe to the oppressors! Woe to the libertines! Woe to men, women, and children! A noise now arose, louder than any that had yet shaken the quarry. All fell to the ground, stretching out their arms crosswise as a protection against the evil spirit. A hush ensued. Nothing was heard save heavy breathing interspersed with odd whispers of, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus! And now and then the crying of children. Above that dark mass arose a voice crying, Peace be with you! To us the voice of Peter the Apostle, who had just entered the crypt. All fear passed away at that sound as passes a sudden terror from a flock of sheep at sight of the shepherd. The multitude rose to their feet, approaching they surrounded him as though seeking shelter under his wings. He stretched his hands above them and cried, Why are ye disturbed in mind? Who amongst ye can foretell the future? God hath smitten Babylon with fire, but forget not that the blood of the Lamb hath redeemed ye, and that his loving-kindness will enable ye to die with his name on your lips. After the stern and stormful outburst of Christmas the words of Peter fell like balm upon the congregation. Instead of God's wrath it was God's love which he held up before them. The hearers realized that it was the Christ whom they had learned to love through the teachings of the apostles, therefore no pitiless judge, but a sweet and patient Lamb whose loving-kindness a hundredfold exceeded the wickedness of man. Calm descended upon all hearts and a feeling of gratitude towards the apostle. Voices called from all sides, We are thy sheep, feed us! Those who were closest cried, Do not leave us in the days of our trouble! They fell at his knees, at this Vinicius approached, threw aside the edge of his cloak, bent his head, and said, Master, save me! I have searched for her in the flames, in the smoke, and among the people, and I have found her nowhere, but I believe that thou canst give her back to me. Peter laid his head upon the young man's head. Have faith, he said, and come with me. III The city continued burning. The Circus Maximus fell in ruins. In the section where the fire had started, whole alleys and streets had also fallen. After each fall, pillars of flame shot up toward the sky. The wind now changed and blew a gale from the sea, bearing down waves of flame and brands and cinders upon the Sicilian, the Esquiline, and the Viminal. The authorities were now providing means of rescue. At the order of Tijellinus, who three days before had hurried in from Antium, they pulled down the houses on the Esquiline, in order that the fire might die by itself on reaching the empty spaces. It was a vain attempt undertaken only to preserve a remnant of the city, since that part which was already in flames was hopelessly doomed. It was necessary, however, to prevent the further spreading of the calamity. At one swoop incalculable wealth had perished in Rome. Most of the inhabitants had lost their all. Hundreds of thousands wandered about around the walls in utter destitution. As early as the second day, hunger began to torment the multitude. The immense stores of provisions amassed within the city had all been consumed. In this wholesale chaos, amid the disillusion of all authority, everyone thought only of providing himself with new supplies. Immediately after the arrival of Tijellinus, suitable orders were dispatched to Ostia. But the people in the meantime assumed a more menacing attitude. The house at the Aquapia, where Tijellinus lived, was surrounded by crowds of women who clamored from morning till late in the night for bread and roof. The Praetorians who were brought from the great camp situated between the Via Solaria and the Nomantana strove in vain to maintain order. Here and there the people stood in open armed resistance. Elsewhere, defenseless groups pointed to the blazing city and implored, Kill us in sight of this fire! They cursed Caesar, his courtiers, and the Praetorian soldiers. The tumult increased every hour, so that Tijellinus, gazing at night on thousands of fires spread around the city, said to himself that they were the fires of hostile camps. Besides flour, as large a quantity as possible of baked bread was brought at his command, not only from Ostia but from all the surrounding towns and villages. But when the first convoy reached the Emporium at night, the people stormed the chief gate leading towards the avantine and seized the supplies in the twinkling of an eye. Then followed a terrible uproar, in the light of the flames the mob struggled for loaves. Many were trampled upon, flour from torn sacks covered as with snow the whole space from the cornhouse to the arches of Drusus and Germanicus. The tumult lasted till the soldiers surrounded the buildings and dispersed the mob with the help of arrows and darts. Never since the invasion of the Gauls under Brennus had Rome experienced a like disaster. In their despair the mob compared the two conflagrations. In the first there had remained at least the capital. But now the capital was surrounded by a terrible wreath of flame. Marble, it is true, could not burn. Yet at night when the wind turned the smoke aside for a moment one could see rows of columns of the lofty sanctuary of Jove, red and glowing like burning coal. Again in the time of Brennus, Rome had a patriotic and harmonious people attached to the city and their altars. Now mobs of various tongues roamed about the walls of the burning city, mostly composed of bond and freedmen, unmanageable, unruly, and ready under pressure of want to turn against Caesar and the city. The very magnitude of the catastrophe, filling as it did every heart with dismay, disarmed the crowd to a certain extent. After the scourge of fire would follow famine and disease, the terrible hot days of July had set in. It was impossible to inhale air heated by fire and sun. Night not only brought no relief, but made a hell of the city. In the daytime a dismaying and ill-omend sight was before them. The very center of the gigantic city upon the hills changed into a roaring volcano. Round about as far as the Albanian hills was an immense encampment, composed of booths, tents, huts, wagons, wheel-barrows, packs of merchandise, fireplaces, covered with smoke and dust. These were lighted by the beams of the sun, which, owing to the smoke, shed a red and weird light on the whole, full as it was of noise, din, threats, hatred, and terror. A monstrous crowd of men, women, and children held possession. Among the quyrites were Greeks, hairy, blue-eyed, and light-haired people from the north, Africans, and Asiatics. Among the citizens were slaves, freedmen, gladiators, merchants, tradesmen, peasants and soldiers, a veritable sea of humanity surrounding an island of fire. Various rumors stirred this sea, just as the wind raises waves in the real one. Some were favorable, and others unfavorable. It was reported that immense stores of food and clothing were on their way from the Emporium to be distributed gratis. It was also said that at the command of Caesar provinces in Asia and Africa would be stripped of their wealth, and the wealth thus raised would be divided among the inhabitants of Rome, so that everybody might build his own house. But it was also noise about that the water in the aqueducts was poisoned, and that Nero intended to destroy the city and annihilate all the inhabitants, so that he might move to Greece or Egypt and rule the world from there. Each report spread with lightning like speed. Each was received by the rabble as a fact. So these various reports produced outbursts of hope, indignation, terror, and rage. Finally, these encamping thousands were attacked as by a fever. The Christian belief that the end of the world by fire was at hand spread itself even among the followers of the gods and increased daily. Some people were stupefied, others went mad. In the midst of the clouds, lighted by the flames, they saw gods looking down on the ruin of the world. Some stretched out their hands in supplication to them, while others cursed them. Meanwhile, the soldiers assisted by a number of citizens continued to destroy houses on the Esquiline and the Silian, and also on the trans-Tiber. Important parts of these quarters were saved, but in the city perished the accumulations of ages of conquest, priceless works of art, magnificent sanctuaries, the most precious reminders of Rome's past and of her glory. One could foresee that of the whole city there would scarcely remain a few houses on the margin, and that hundreds of thousands of people would remain without shelter. A report spread that the soldiers were tearing down the houses not to stop the fire, but to make sure that nothing was left of the city. Tijellinas implored Caesar in every letter to return, so that by his presence the exasperated people might be calmed. But Caesar did not move until his own palace was on fire, and then hastened back so as not to miss the period when the fire should reach its maximum. Quo Vadis by Henrik Sinkhevich. Translated by Binyonant Melevsky. Part III. CHAPTER IV Meanwhile the fire had reached the Via Nomenthana. A sudden change of the wind caused the flames to turn towards the Via Lata and the Tiber. They surrounded the capital and spread to the ox market, destroying everything omitted in their first attack, and again approached the Palatine. Tijellinas gathered all the Praetorian forces together and dispatched courier after courier to the approaching Caesar, notifying him that he would miss nothing of the great spectacle since the conflagration was increasing. But Nero elected to arrive during the night so that he might have a better view and say to himself with the sight of the perishing city. With that object he halted near the Aqualbana. Then he invited the Tragedian Alatoris to his tent, and with his help decided how to pose, look, and express himself. He learned appropriate gestures and argued with the actor as to the words, O sacred city which seemed to be more lasting than Eda. Whether he should raise both hands or hold a liar in one hand and lift up only the other. This matter seemed to him at that time of more moment than anything else. He started at last about nightfall. He sought counsel from Petronius as to the verses which were to be dedicated to the conflagration. Might he insert blasphemy against the gods from an artistic point of view would not these expressions have been spontaneously uttered by any man in like position who was losing his fatherland? About midnight he and his splendid court composed of whole detachments of nobility, senators, knights, freedmen, slaves, women, and children approached the city. Sixteen thousand Praetorians were posted along the roadside in battle array to guard the safety and peace of his journey and to keep the excited people at a distance. The people cursed, shouted, and hissed as they caught sight of the retinue, but did not venture to attack them. In many places, however, the mob applauded, but they were mainly those who had lost nothing since they had nothing to lose in the fire. They hoped for a more liberal distribution of grain, olives, clothing, and money. At last the shouting and whistling were drowned in the den of all the trumpets and horns which Tijellinas ordered to be sounded. When Nero arrived at the Ostean gate he halted and said, Oh, houseless ruler of a homeless people, where shall I lay my unfortunate head to-night? After passing the Clivus Delphini he ascended the steps prepared for him on the Appian Aqueduct. He was followed by the Augustalis and a choir of singers bearing lutes and other musical instruments. All held their breath, awaiting the expression of some great word, which for their own safety they would be bound to remember. But Nero remained solemn and silent, clothed in a purple cloak with a wreath of golden laurels on his head, looking at the raging of the mighty flames. When Terpnos handed him a golden lute he lifted his eyes towards the flame illumined city as though waiting for inspiration. The people pointed at him from a distance as he stood in the blood-like light, fiery serpents hissed in the distance. The oldest and holiest monuments were in flames, the sacred temple of Hercules built by Evander, the temple of Jupiter Stator, the temple of Luna built by Servius Tullius, the house of Numa Pompilius, and the sanctuary of Vesta with the penits of the Roman people were all on fire. Through the waving flames the capital was discerned at intervals. The past the soul of Rome was burning, but Caesar stood, lute in hand, his features set like those of a Tragedian, careless of the destruction of his country, but anxious about the posture of his body and the pathetic words by which he might describe the great calamity, stir the most admiration, and receive the most applause. He hated the city, he detested its inhabitants. He only loved his songs and his verses. He heartily rejoiced that at last he beheld a tragedy not unlike that of which he was writing. The maker of verses felt himself happy, the disclaimer felt himself inspired. The seeker for emotions was jubilant at the appalling sight, and thought with delight that the destruction of Troy was nothing compared with that of this great city. What more could he wish? There lay Rome, Rome, the ruler of the world was in flames, while he was standing on the arches of the aqueduct with a golden lute in his hands, showily clad in purple, admired by all, stately and poetic. Somewhere below there in the darkness the people murmured and grumbled, let them murmur. Ages would pass, thousands of years would go by, and men would remember and glorify the poet who in such a night sang the fall and burning of Troy. What was Homer? Yeah, what was Apollo with his lute? None could be compared to him. Here he raised his hands and striking the strings he quoted the words of Priam. Oh, nest of my fathers, oh, precious cradle! His voice in the open air against the roar of the flames and the distant murmur of the multitude seemed weak, abrupt and feeble. The sound of the accompanying instruments was like the buzzing of flies, but senators, officers and Augustalis gathered together on the aqueduct, bowed their heads and listened in rapturous silence. He sang long, and his subject gradually became sadder. At intervals, when he stopped to catch breath, the chorus of singers repeated the last verse, then Nero would throw the tragic robe from his shoulders, and, assuming a tragic gesture which he learned from Alatoris, would strike the lute and continue his song. When at last he finished his composition he began to improvise, seeking great comparisons in the sight before him. His face changed. In reality he was not moved by the destruction of his capital, but his delight over his own words caused his eyes to fill with tears. He dropped the lute with a clatter at his feet, and wrapping himself in his robe stood as if petrified, like one of those statues of Nairobi which adorned the court of the Palatine. A storm of applause succeeded, but the multitude in the distance answered it by howling. Now there could no longer be a doubt that Caesar had ordered the burning of the city, so as to provide himself with a spectacle which might move him to song. When Nero heard the cry of hundreds of thousands of voices, he turned to the Augustalis with a sad smile such as men wear when suffering from injustice, and said, That is the way that the Choirites value poetry and myself. Naves, answered Vitinius, Lord command the Praetorians to fall on them. Nero turned to Tijalinas. Can I count upon the faithfulness of the soldiers? Yes, so divine one, replied the Prefect. But Petronius shrugged his shoulders. On their loyalty you can count, but not on their numbers. Remain for the present where you are, for this is the safest place, but the people must needs be pacified. Seneca and the consul Lysinius were of the same opinion. Meantime the discontent below was increasing. The people armed themselves with stones, tent poles, with boards from the wagons and wheel-barrows, and pieces of iron. In due time some of the chiefs of the Praetorian soldiers arrived. They reported that the cohorts, pressed by the mob, retained their line of battle with much difficulty, and as they had no orders to attack they knew not what to do. Gods! said Nero, what a night! On one side was the conflagration, on the other the tumultuous sea of the mob. He began to look for more poetic expressions, so that he could describe the peril of the moment. But seeing around him pale faces and disturbed looks, he began to share their fears. Give me the dark cloak with the hood, he called out. Must we really resort to battle, Lord? hesitatingly replied Tijellinus. I have done everything that I could, but the danger is threatening. Speak thou, Lord, to the people, and make them ample promises. Must Caesar himself address the mob? Let somebody else talk to them in my name. Who will undertake this? I, said Petronius calmly, Go, friend, thou art my most loyal friend in need, go and be prodigal in thy promises. Petronius turned to the retinue with a sarcastic glance. Senators here present, he cried, and also Piso, Nerva, and Sinicio, come with me. Then he stepped gently down the aqueduct. Those whom he had summoned went with him, not without hesitation, but with a certain hope with which his calmness had inspired them. Petronius stopped at the foot of the arcades and ordered a white horse to be brought to him. He mounted it, and, followed by his companions, proceeded between the deep ranks of the Praetorians towards the surging black mass of people. He was unarmed, save only for a light ivory cane which he habitually carried. He advanced and pushed his horse into the midst of the crowd. All around, in the light of the conflagration, one could see hands lifted up, armed with all kinds of weapons, inflamed eyes, perspiring faces. Roaring and foaming like madly surging waves, the masses surrounded him and his followers. On every side was a sea of heads, moving, pushing, a dreadful scene. The shouts of indignation increased and changed into unearthly roaring. Poles, pitchforks, even swords were brandished above, Petronius. Eager hands were stretched towards his horse's bridle and himself, but he kept riding on deeper into the midst of the crowd. Cool, self-possessed, and contemptuous, at times he struck the most audacious on their heads with his cane, as though he were opening a road for himself through an ordinary throng. His self-possession, his calmness, dumbfounded the tumultuous mob. At last they recognized him, and numerous voices greeted him. Petronius, the arbiter of elegance! Petronius! Sounded from every direction. At the repetition of that name the crowd became less turbulent, the faces less agitated, for that brilliant, splendid Petrician, though not seeking popular favor, was nevertheless beloved. He passed as a munificent friend of the people. His popularity had increased since the affair of Pedonius Secundus, when he pleaded for the mitigation of the ruthless edict condemning all the slaves of that prefect to death. Especially did all the slaves feel a boundless affection for him. They loved him as the unfortunate are want to love those who show them but the smallest favors. Apart from this they were eager to hear Caesar's message. Nobody doubted that Caesar had specially commissioned him. He removed his white, scarlet-bordered toga, and waved it over his head, a signal that he desired to speak. Silence, silence! shouted voices on all sides. In a moment the mob was quieted. Then he straightened himself on his horse and spoke in a calm and collected voice. Citizens, let those who hear me repeat my words to those who stand at a distance. All of you behave like men, and not like beasts in the arena. We listen, we listen! Then hear me. The city will be rebuilt. The gardens of Luculus, Mycenaeus, Caesar, and Agrippina will be opened to you. Tomorrow the distribution of grain, wine, and olives will begin, so that everybody may fill his belly up to his throat. After this Caesar will prepare games for you, such as the world has never seen. After this banquets and gifts await you, you will be richer after the fire than before. He was answered by murmurs which spread from the center to all directions, as waves spread when a stone is cast in the water. Those who were near repeated the words to those at a distance, but here and there were shouts of anger and applause, which finally turned into a universal cry, Bread and Games! Petronius wrapped himself up in the toga, and for some time listened motionless. In his white apparel he resembled a marble statue. The noise from all sides increased in volume so that it drowned the roaring of the conflagration. But the ambassador evidently had something more to say, for he waited. At last, once more with upraised hands, he commanded silence and cried, I promise you, Bread and Games, now cheer in honor of the Caesar who feeds and clothes you. Go to sleep, ye ragamuffins, for dawn is at hand. So saying, he turned his horse, touched lightly with his cane upon the heads and faces of those who stood in his way, and slowly proceeded to the Praetorian lines. Soon he arrived under the aqueduct. Above there was something like a panic, the shouting of the crowd for Bread and Games had reached Caesar. He imagined that a new outbreak had taken place, and did not expect Petronius back in safety. So when he saw him, he hastened to the steps to meet him. Pale faced and full of emotion, he asked, How goes it? What are they doing? Is fighting begun there? Petronius drew a long breath and replied, By Pollux, they sweat and produce bad odors. Let somebody give me a pelina, for I am fainting. Then he turned to Caesar. I promised them, he said, Grain, olives, the opening of the gardens and games. They worship the arena, and they are bellowing in thy behalf. Gods, what a disagreeable odor these plebeians emit. I had the Praetorians ready, cried Tijolinas, and if thou hadst not quieted them, the shouters would have been silenced for ever. Tis a petty Caesar that thou didst not allow me to use force. Petronius looked at the speaker, shrugged his shoulders, and said, This chance is not yet lost. Thou mayst be able to use it to-morrow. No, no, cried Caesar, I shall order the gardens to be opened to them and Grain to be distributed. Thanks to thee, Petronius, I shall prepare games and that song which I sang before thee to-day. I will sing in public. This said, he placed his hands on Petronius' shoulder and remained silent for a while. Then, starting up, he inquired, Tell me candidly, how did I appear when I was singing? Thou art worthy of the scene as the scene was worthy of thee, answered Petronius. Then Nero turned to the fire. Let us gaze at it yet again, he said, and bid farewell to old Rome. The words of the apostle inspired the Christians with fresh hope. The end of the world seemed to them always at hand, yet they now began to realize that the terrible final judgment had been postponed, and that the first thing that would happen would be the end of Nero, whose reign they considered as that of Antichrist and whose crimes cried to God for vengeance. Thus strengthened in their hearts they dispersed after the prayer and departed to their temporary habitations and even to the trans-Tiber. News had reached them that the conflagration, set there in some twenty places, had turned again with a change of the wind towards the riverside, and after consuming here and there what it could, had ceased to spread. The apostle also left the quarry. Venetius and Kylo followed them. The young tribune did not venture to interrupt him in his prayers, so he walked on in silence. Only with his eyes he begged mercy. His disquiet made him tremble. But many came to kiss Peter's hands and the hem of the apostle's garment. Mothers held up their children to him. Men knelt in the dark, long passage, holding up tapers and begging a blessing. Others went alongside singing, so that there was no appropriate moment either for question or for answer. It was so in the narrow passage, only when they came out in the open spaces once the burning city could be seen. The apostle blessed them thrice, and turning to Venetius said, Be not afraid! Near this place is the hut of the quarryman, in which we shall find Ligia and Linus and her faithful servant. Christ who predestined her for thee hath preserved her for thee. Venetius tottered and supported himself by putting his hand against the rock. The ride from Antium, the events at the wall, the search for Ligia among the burning houses, the sleepless nights and the frequent alarms, all these had almost exhausted his strength. But the news that the most precious one in the world was near at hand entirely unnerved him. He became so feeble that he threw himself speechless at the apostle's feet and embraced his knees. The apostle, waving away all thanks and honour, said, Not to me, but to Christ! Yay, an admirable deity, said the voice of Kylo from the rear, but I do not know what to do with the mules that are waiting here for me. Rise and come with me, said Peter, taking the young man by the hand. Venetius rose. By the light of the flames, tears were seen to trickle down his pale face, his lips moved as though he were praying. Let us go, he said. But Kylo once more repeated, Master, what shall I do with the mules that are waiting? This worthy prophet probably prefers riding to walking. Venetius himself did not know what to answer, but hearing from Peter that the hut of the quarryman was near, he exclaimed, Lead the mules to Macronus. Excuse me, sir, if I remind you of the house in a Mariola, in the shadow of this horrible conflagration it is quite natural to forget such trifling things. Thou wilt get it. Oh, grandson of Numa Pampilius, I was always sure of it, but now hearing the promise and knowing that this magnanimous apostle has also heard it, I shall not even remind thee that thou hast promised me a vineyard. Peace be with you. I shall find thee, Master, peace be with ye. Peter and Venetius replied, and with thee. Both turned to the right toward the hills. Whilst on the road Venetius said, Master, wash me with the water of baptism, so that I may call myself a true confessor of Christ, for I love him with all my soul. Wash me at once, for I am ready in my heart, and whatever thou commandest me I will do. Only tell me what to do, and I will do it. Love thy neighbour as thyself, answered the apostle, for only with love canst thou serve him. Yes, I already understand and feel it. When I was a child I believed in the Roman gods, albeit I did not love them, but this God I loved so much that I would gladly give my life for him. He looked towards the sky and repeated with ecstasy, for he is one, for he only is good and gracious, therefore not only will he save this city but the whole world, him alone will I acknowledge, him will I recognize. And he will bless thee and thine, concluded the apostle. Meanwhile they turned into another passage, at the end of which a faint light was visible. Peter pointed to it and said, That is the dwelling-place of the quarrymen who sheltered us, when we were on the way returning from Ostranium with the sick Linus. We could not then go to the other side of the Tiber. In a few minutes they arrived. The hovel was more like a cave formed in the slope of the hill. On the outside it had a wall made of clay and reeds. The door was closed, but through an opening which served for a window, the interior was discerned, lighted by a fire. A dark giant figure rose to meet them and inquired, Who are you? Servants of Christ, Peter replied, Peace be with thee, Ursus. Ursus bowed down to the apostle's feet. Recognizing Venisius he grasped his hand by the wrist and lifted it up to his lips. And thou, master, he said, Blessed be the name of the Lamb for the gladness thou wilt cause to Calina. He opened the door and they entered. Linus was lying on a bundle of straw. His face was emaciated, and his brow as yellow as ivory. Sitting at the fireside was Ligia, holding in her hand a bunch of small fishes fastened on a string and evidently intended for supper. She was busy removing the fishes from the string, thinking it was Ursus who had entered, she did not raise her eyes. But Venisius came near her, pronounced her name, and stretched out his hand to her. She immediately stood up, a flash of surprise and joy passed over her face, and without a word, as a child who, after days of trouble and suffering, recovers father or mother, she threw herself into his open arms. He embraced her and pressed her to his breast for some time, with as much transport as though she had been rescued by a miracle. Then he unfastened his arms and placed her temples between his hands, kissed her brow and her eyes, and embraced her again, repeating her name, then bent to her knees and to her hands, saluted her, adored and worshipped her. His delight was boundless as well as his love and happiness. He told her how he had hastened from Antium, how he had searched for her at the walls and in the smoke in the house of Linus, how great his sufferings were, how much he had endured before the Apostle showed him her hiding-place. But now, he said, now that I have found thee, I shall not leave thee near this fire and these raging crowds. People are murdering one another at the walls. Slaves are revolting and pillaging. Only God knows the miseries that are yet to fall on Rome. But I will protect thee and thine, O my darling. Come with me to Antium. We shall embark there and sail for Sicily. My land is thy land. My house is thy house. Listen to me. In Sicily we shall find Aulus. I will restore thee to Pomponia. After that I will take thee from her hands. But thou, O my most beloved, trust me, I am not yet baptized, but ask, Peter, if I have not expressed my desire to become a true confessor of Christ. If I did not ask him to baptize me, even in the quarryman's cave, trust thou in me, all of ye confide in me." Ligia's face was radiant as she listened to these words. Christians first because of Jewish persecution and now because of the conflagration and consequent confusion could only live in uncertainty and alarm. A removal to a peaceful Sicily would put an end to all this trouble and open a new epoch of bliss in their lives. Had Vinicius planned to take Ligia alone she would certainly have resisted the temptation. She was unwilling to leave Peter and Linus, but Vinicius said unto them, Come with me. My land is your land. My house is your house. At this Ligia bowed to kiss his hand as a mark of obedience, saying, Thy hearth is my hearth. Then ashamed that she had spoken words which, according to Roman custom, were only repeated by wives at the marriage ceremony, she blushed deeply and stood in the light of the fire with head downwards, uncertain whether he would deem her wanting in maidenliness. But in his face beamed boundless adoration, he turned to Peter. Rome, he said, is burning at Caesar's command. He complained at Antium that he had never seen a conflagration. If he shrank not from such a crime as this, think what may yet come to pass. Who knows if he is not going to mass soldiers in the city and order a general massacre of the inhabitants. Who knows what persecution may follow, and who knows whether after the calamity of fire the calamity of civil war, murder, and famine may not follow. Hide yourselves, and let us also hide Ligia. There you can wait in peace until the tempest passes, and when it is over, return anew to sow the good seed. From the direction of the Vatican field, as though to enforce the fears of Vinicius, distant cries now arose, cries of rage and terror. At that moment the owner of the hut entered and hastily shut the door behind him. Near the circus of Nero, he cried, the people are killing one another, slaves and gladiators are throwing themselves on the citizens. Do you hear that? asked Vinicius. The measure is filled, said the Apostle. Calamity will follow like an inexhaustible sea. He turned to Vinicius, and pointing to Ligia, said, Take the maiden and save her, together with Linus and Ursus. Let them go with you. Vinicius, who loved the Apostle with all the might of his soul, exclaimed, I swear to the master that I shall not leave thee to perish. The Lord bless thee for thy good wishes, answered the Apostle, but hast thee not heard that Christ went on the lake, thrice repeated unto me, feed my lambs. Vinicius was silent. Moreover, if thou who art not responsible for me, declarest that thou wilt not leave me behind to destruction, how canst thou ask that I should abandon my flock in the day of Calamity, when we were on the stormy lake and we were troubled in heart, he did not forsake us. How much more should I, a servant, follow the example of my master? Then Linus raised his emaciated face and asked, And why should I, O representative of the Lord, why should I not follow thy example? Vinicius passed his hands over his face, as though wrestling with himself or struggling with his thoughts. Then he grasped Ligia by the hand and said it in a voice in which quivered the energy of the Roman soldier. Listen to me, Peter, Linus, and thou, Ligia. I speak according to the dictates of my human reason, but ye have another monitor which wrecks not for your own safety, but only for the commands of the Saviour. I did not understand this, and I erred, for the scales have not yet been removed from my eyes, and the old Adam is not yet dead within me, but as I love Christ and wish to be his servant, it involves a thing which is more important than my life. I kneel here before you and swear that I also will fulfill the commandment of love and will not forsake my brethren in the day of calamity. This said he knelt down, then suddenly transported into a state of ecstasy. He raised his eyes and hands and called out, Do I understand thee now, O Christ, am I worthy of thee? His hands trembled, his eyes glistened with tears, his body shook with faith and love. The Apostle Peter took an earthen vessel full of water, approached him and solemnly said, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Enthusiasm seized on all present. It appeared to them that the house was filled with heavenly light, that they heard unearthly music, that the cliffs in the cave opened above their heads, that throngs of angels floated down from heaven, and that up above they beheld a cross and pierced hands giving a blessing. Meanwhile the riotous shouts and the roar of the flames from the burning city resounded from without. Part 3 Chapter 6 People camped out in the magnificent gardens of Caesar, in the former gardens of Domitius and Agrippina. On the field of Mars, in the gardens of Pompey, Salist, and Mycenaeus, they occupied the porticoes, the ball-courts, the comfortable summer houses and sheds erected for wild beasts. Peacocks, flamingos, swans and ostriches, gazelles and antelopes from Africa, stags and deer which served to ornament the gardens, all fell under the knives of the mob. Victuels arrived from Ostium in such abundance that one could walk from one side of the Tiber to the other on a bridge of rafts and boats. Grain sold at the unprecedentedly low price of three Cestersia. To the poor it was distributed gratis. Immense stores of wine, olives, and chestnuts were brought in. From the mountains sheep and cattle were driven daily into the city. Beggars, who before the fire hid themselves in the lanes of the Sabora in a starving condition, now lived at their ease. The fear of famine entirely vanished, but it was more difficult to banish murder, robbery, and all abuses. A vagrant life ensured impunity to malefactors, the more so that they called themselves the admirers of Caesar, lavishing their applause whenever he showed himself. When all authority was suspended and there was not enough power to keep order in a city inhabited by the scum of the world, crimes were committed surpassing human imagination. Every night there were fights, murders, kidnapping of women and children. At the Porta Mugionis, where there was a station for the herds driven in from the Campania, there were daily a phrase in which hundreds of people perished. Every morning the banks of the Tiber were covered with corpses which nobody carried away. These decayed quickly because of the heat intensified by the fire and filled the atmosphere with foul exhalations. Sickness broke out in the encampments and the more timid foresaw a great epidemic. The city continued to burn. By the sixth day it at last reached the empty space on the Esquiline where a great number of houses had purposely been demolished. Only then did the flames slacken. But the heaps of burning cinders produced so powerful a light that the people would not believe the calamity was not at an end. And indeed, on the seventh night the fire burst out anew in the buildings belonging to Tijalinas. For lack of fuel it lasted only a short time, but burned houses collapsed in all directions which in their fall threw up towers of flame and pillars of cinders. Slowly the glow from the burning began to darken. The sky after sunset ceased to be illuminated blood red by the flames. Only during the night time there would be seen upon the vast dark waste flickering bluish tongues proceeding from the piles of cinders. Of the fourteen divisions of Rome there were only four left, including those on the trans-Tiber. All the others had been destroyed. When the heaps of cinders were at last reduced to ashes, one could see from the Tiber to the Esquiline an immense gray, dead, and melancholy expanse upon which stood rows of columns like so many gravestones in a cemetery. Among these columns crowds of gloomy people lurked during the daytime, some searching for valuables, others for the bones of those dear to them. In the night dogs howled above the ashes and ruins of their former abodes. Caesar's bounty and assistance to the mob did not restrain them from pouring out their wrath in imprecations. Only the scum were contented, the pickpockets, thieves, and homeless beggars, who could eat enough, drink, and rob. But people who had lost their near relatives and all their possessions could not be appeased by the opening of gardens, nor by the distribution of grain, nor by promises of games and gifts. It was a too great and unprecedented calamity. Others, in whom still glimmered a spark of love for their city and fatherland, were reduced to despair at the news that the old name of Rome was to disappear from the face of the earth, and that Caesar intended to raise upon its ashes a new city under the name of Neuropolis. Murmers and threats increased daily in spite of the adulations of the Augustalis and the columnes of Tijellinas. Nero, more impressed than any of the preceding Caesars with the necessity of courting the favour of the populace, saw with alarm that in the underhand death struggle which he was carrying on against the patricians and the senate he might lack support. The Augustalis themselves were not less disturbed, for any mourning might bring destruction upon them. Tijellinas thought of drawing several legions from Asia Minor. Vatinius, who was wont to smile even when he was slapped in the face, now lost his sense of humour. Vitalius lost his appetite. Others had taken counsel among themselves how to avert calamity. It was an open secret that in case of any outbreak which would remove Caesar, with the possible exception of Patronius, not a single Augustali would escape death. Nero's madness was ascribed to their influence, all the crimes he committed to their suggestion. The hatred of them was almost stronger than that towards Nero. They now sought to find a means of exonerating themselves from the responsibility of the fire, but in clearing themselves it was also necessary to clear Caesar, or nobody would believe that they were not the authors of the calamity. Tijellinas took counsel on this subject with Domitius' offer, and even with Seneca whom he detested. Papia, too, understood that the ruin of Caesar meant also her own. She had recourse to her confidence the Jewish priests. For some years it had been noised about that she acknowledged the faith of Jehovah. Nero himself found methods frequently terrible and more frequently farcical. He alternately fell into alarm and into puerile amusements. Above all, he kept a never ceasing outpouring of complaints. On a certain time a consultation was held in the house of Tiberius which had escaped the flames. It was of long duration, but fruitless. Patronius' advice was to leave the seat of troubles and depart for Greece and thence to Egypt and Asia Minor. This voyage had been planned before, why then defer it whilst there was so much sorrow and peril. Caesar accepted the suggestion eagerly, but Seneca, after a moment of thought, objected. It is easy to go, but the subsequent return will be difficult. By Hercules, replied Patronius, we may return with the Asiatic legions. Yay, I will do so, said Caesar. Tijellinus objected. He could not think of anything himself, and had Patronius' idea come into his head, he would have unhesitatingly declared it the safest one. But his chief eagerness was to prevent Patronius from posing as the one man who could be successfully appealed to in an emergency. Listen to me, O divine one, he said. This advice is ruinous. ere thou canst reach Ostea, civil war will have broken out. Who knows whether one of the still living descendants of the divine Augustus may not proclaim himself Caesar, and what then shall we do if the legions declare for him? This we can do, entered Caesar, we can see that there be no descendants of Augustus. There are not many of them now, hence it will not be difficult to get rid of them. This can be done, but are they the only ones? Only recently as yesterday my people heard rumors in the crowd that Thrasia ought to be Caesar. Nero bit his lips. After a moment's thought he raised his eyes and said, insatiable and ungrateful, they have plenty of grain and coal on which they can bake cakes. What more do they want? Vengeance, exclaimed Tijellinus. There was silence anew. Suddenly Caesar rose, raised his hand, and began to declaim, Hearts call for vengeance, and vengeance calls for sacrifice. For getting everything, his face brightened, he called out, Hand me a tablet and stylus so that I may write this verse. Lucan could never have composed one like it. Did you notice that I conceived it in the twinkling of an eye? Oh, incomparable one! cried several voices. Nero wrote down the verse and said, Yes, vengeance wants a victim. He cast a glance on those who surrounded him. Suppose we were to spread the news that Vatinius commanded the burning of the city, and deliver him to the furious people. Oh, Divinity, who am I? exclaimed Vatinius. True, it is needful to have a more important victim. What says Vitellius? Vitellius grew pale, but began to laugh. My fat, he said, would be apt to start the fire again. Nero was thinking of something else. He was mentally searching for a victim who could fully appease the fury of the people, and he found him. Tijellinus, he called after a while, Thou hast burned Rome! A shiver ran through the people present. They comprehended that this time Caesar was in earnest, and that a moment pregnant with events was at hand. The face of Tijellinus wrinkled up like the jaws of a dog ready to bite. I burned Rome at thy command, he snarled. They glared at each other like two demons. A silence followed so deep that the buzzing of flies could be heard through the hall. Tijellinus, said Nero, dost thou love me? Thou knowest Lord, offer thyself up for me. Divine Caesar, answered Tijellinus, why dost thou give me the sweet draft which I cannot drink? The rabble are murmuring and conspiring. Wouldst thou that the Praetorians should also rise? The implied menace chilled the hearts of all present. Tijellinus was the prefect of the Praetorians. Behind his words lay a threat. Nero himself understood this. His face paled. While this was going on, Epaphroditus, Caesar's freedman, entered and made known that the Divine Augusta wished to see Tijellinus as she was holding audience with people whom the prefect ought to hear. Tijellinus bowed to Caesar and left with a calm but contemptuous face. They had wished to strike him and he had shown his teeth. He had given them to understand who he was. Knowing the pusillanimity of Nero, he was sure that the ruler of the world would never dare to lift up his hand against him. Nero sat for a while in silence. Then, seeing that some answer was expected from him, he said, I have nourished a serpent in my bosom. Petronius shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say that it was easy to pluck off the head of such a serpent. What sayest thou, speak, advise? cried Nero, who observed the gesture. In thee alone can I trust, for thou hast more understanding than all of them, and thou lovest me. Petronius had already on his lips a point me prefect, and I will deliver to Tijellinus to the people and pacify them in a day. But his natural indolence prevailed. To be prefect meant to bear on his shoulders Caesar's person and a thousand public affairs. Why take upon himself such labour? Was it not preferable to read poetry in a spacious library and look on vases and statues, besides holding the divine body of Eunice on his lap, and arranging her golden hair with his fingers, and pressing his mouth to her coral lips? Then, he said, I counsel the journey to Achia. Ah, replied Nero, I expected something better from thee. The Senate detests me, who will guarantee if I depart that it will not revolt against me and proclaim someone else, Caesar. The people were formally loyal, but now they will follow the Senate. By Hades, I wish that the people and the Senate had one head. Allow me to tell thee, O divine one, that if thou desirest to preserve Rome, thou must needs preserve a few Romans also. Returned Petronius smilingly. But Nero renewed his complaints. What are Rome and the Romans to me? In Achia I should be obeyed. Here nothing but treason surrounds me, all abandon me. Ye yourselves are getting ready for treason. I know it, I know. You do not even think what future ages will say of you if you forsake such an artist as I am. He struck his forehead suddenly and cried aloud, True, in the midst of these troubles, even I myself had forgotten who I am. He turned a radiant face upon Petronius. Petronius said he the people murmur, but if I take the loot and go with it to the field of Mars, if I sing to them that song which I sang to you at the conflagration, dost thou think that I will not move them with my song as Orpheus once moved wild beasts? Tullius Sinicio, impatient to return to his slave women, who had just arrived from Antium, now broke in. Beyond doubt, Caesar, if they permitted thee to begin, Let us go to Greece, cried Nero, with displeasure. At that moment Papia entered, with her was Tijelinas. The eyes of the people present turned involuntarily to him, for never had a victor entered the capital with such pride as his when he stood before Caesar. He began to speak slowly and impressively, his voice sounding like the clang of iron. Hear me, O Caesar, for I can tell thee what I have found. The people want vengeance and victims, not one victim, but hundreds and thousands. Hast thou, O Lord, heard of Christus, who was crucified by Pontius Pilate? Nor hast thou of the Christians? Have I not told thee of their crimes and their abominable customs, of their prophecies that fire would bring about the end of the world? The people hate and suspect them. Nobody has ever seen them in the sanctuaries, for they consider our gods as evil spirits. Thou dost not have them in the circus, for they abominate games and races. Never have the hands of a Christian applauded thee. Never has any one of them recognized thee as a god. They are the enemies of the human race, the enemies of the city and of thee. The people murmur against thee. Thou hast ordered the burning of Rome, not I. The people are thirsting for vengeance. Let them have it. The people are thirsting for blood and games. Let them have them. The people suspect thee. Let their suspicion be averted elsewhere. Nero at first listened with amazement, but as Tijolinas progressed, his actors' face changed and assumed a look of anger, of sorrow, of sympathy, and of indignation. Suddenly he stood up, threw down his toga, which fell at his feet, raised both hands, and remained in that attitude for a while. At last he exclaimed, in the voice of a tragedian, Zeus Apollo, Hera, Athena Persephone, and all ye immortal gods, why did ye not come to our assistance? What has this unfortunate city done to those cruel people that they so inhumanly burned it? They are the enemies of mankind and of thee, said Popiah, and others began to cry, deliver a sentence, punish the incendiaries, the very gods cry for vengeance. Nero sat down, sank his head on his breast, and was silent again, as though the wickedness he had heard stunned him, but after a little he shook his head and said, What punishment and what tortures should be meted out for such a crime? But the gods will inspire me. Assisted by the power of Tartarus, I will give my poor people such spectacles that for ages they will remember me with gratitude. The brow of Petronius was suddenly clouded. He thought of the peril hanging over Ligia and Venisius, whom he loved more than he did the rest of that strange people whose doctrines he rejected, but of whose innocence he was convinced. He also thought of the bloody orgies which would soon take place against which his aesthetic sense revolted. But above all he said to himself, I must save Venisius, who will go mad if that maiden perishes. This thought outweighed all others. Petronius fully understood that he was attempting something far more perilous than anything he had yet gone through. Nevertheless he began to speak freely and carelessly, as was his custom when criticizing and ridiculing subjects insufficiently aesthetic with Caesar and the Augustalis. Now ye have at last found victims. Well, then ye may send them to the circus, or may array them in tunics of torture. But hear me, ye have authority, ye have praetorians, ye have power. Be therefore candid at least when no one is in hearing distance. Deceive the people, but deceive not yourselves. Give the Christians to the mob, condemn them to whatever torture you please, but have courage to acknowledge to yourselves that they did not burn Rome. Fire upon you, ye call me the arbiter of elegance, as such I declare to you that I cannot stomach bad comedies. Fie how all this brings to mind the theatrical booths near the asses gate where actors play the parts of gods and kings to amuse the gaping suburban mobs, and when the play is over wash their onions down with sour wine or submit to a clubbing. Be ye in reality kings and queens, for ye are entitled to the honor. O Caesar, thou hast warningly held before us the verdict of the future, but remember that the future will also pronounce judgment against thee by the goddess Clio, Nero, ruler of the world, Nero, a god burned Rome, for he was as powerful on earth as Zeus in Olympus. Nero, a poet, loved poetry so much that to it he sacrificed his country. From the beginning of the world nobody ever did the like, no one ever ventured to do the like. I conjure you in the name of the nine muses, do not renounce such glory, for thy songs will resound to the end of the ages. Compared with thee, what will Priam be, what will Agamemnon be, what Achilles, nay, the very gods themselves. It matters not whether the burning of Rome was a good thing, if it was great and out of the common, for this reason I tell thee that the people will not raise their hands against thee, have courage, keep thyself from acts unbecoming to thee, for this only can stow fear, that future ages will be able to say, Nero burned Rome, but being a pusillanimous Caesar and a small sold poet, he denied the great act out of fear, and cast the guilt on the innocent. The words of Petronius made their wanted powerful impression on Nero. Nevertheless, Petronius was not deceived as to the fact that his speech was a heroic measure. If fortunate it might save the Christians, but it was more likely to hurl himself to destruction. However, he did not hesitate at any hazard when the matter concerned Vinicius, whom he loved. The tie is cast, he said to himself, we shall see how far the fear of death outweighs in the ape his love of glory. In his soul Petronius scarcely dared to doubt that fear would gain the day. Silence followed his words. Popea and all present looked in Nero's eyes as in a rainbow. He pursed up his lips so that they were drawn up to the very nostrils, as he was accustomed to do whenever he knew not what to say. At last wretchedness and anxiety were visible on his face. Lord! cried Tijilliness when he saw this, permit me to go, for when any one seeks to expose thy person to destruction, and besides cause the opusolanumous Caesar and a small soul poet, an incendiary and a comedian, my ears cannot suffer such words. I have lost, thought Petronius, but turning toward Tijilliness, he measured him with his eyes, in which shown the contempt natural to a great and elegant personage contemplating a nave. Then he said, Tijilliness, it was thee I called a comedian, for even now thou art one. And wherefore, because I do not care to listen to thy reproaches, it is because thou art now professing boundless love for Caesar, yet a moment ago thou didst threaten him with the Praetorians. All of us understood this as well as he. Tijilliness had not expected that Petronius would be so bold as to throw such a cast of the dice on the table. He turned pale, lost his head, and became speechless. But this was the last victory of the arbiter of elegance over his rival. At that moment Papia broke in. Lord, how can't thou permit that such a thought should pass the head of any body, and especially that any body should have the temerity to speak it aloud in thy presence? PUNISH THE INSULINT ONE! cried Vitalius. Nero again raised his lips to his nostrils, turning toward Petronius, his nearsighted, glassy eyes, he said. Is this the way that thou rewardest me for the friendship which I had for thee? If I am mistaken, point out my mistake, answered Petronius, but know that I only speak that which my love for thee dictates. PUNISH THE INSULINT ONE! repeated Vitalius. Do so! echoed several voices. Throughout the hall there was a murmur and stir, for every one began to draw away from Petronius. Even Tullius Sinicio, his once steadfast friend and young Nerva, who up to this hour had shown him the greatest affection, withdrew. Soon Petronius was left alone on the left side of the hall. With a smile on his face he arranged the folds of his robe, and awaited what Caesar might say or do. Caesar said, He wish me to punish him. He is my companion and friend. Though he has wounded my heart, let him know that this heart has for its friends only forgiveness. I have lost. I am ruined. thought Petronius. Caesar rose. The conference was at an end. End of Part 3, Chapter 6