 Part 3, Chapter 7 of Quo Vadis, A Tale of the Time of Nero, this Librivox recording is in the public domain. Quo Vadis, by Henrik Sinkiewicz, translated by Binyan and Milevsky. Part 3, Chapter 7. Petronius returned to his house. Tijelinas accompanied Nero to Popiah's Hall, where people awaited them by appointment with the Prefect. There were two rabbis from the trans-Tiber, in long robes and mitred heads, a young scribe, their assistant, and Kylo. At sight of Caesar the priests, paled from excitement, stretched out their arms and bowed their heads. "'We salute thee, O monarch of monarchies, and king of kings!' cried the elder. "'We salute the ruler of the world, the protector of the people, and Caesar, lion among men, whose dominion is like the light of the sun, and like the cedars of Lebanon, like a spring, like a palm tree, and like the balm of Gilead. "'Ye do not address me as a god!' asked Caesar. The priests grew paler, the older one continued to speak. "'Thy words, O Lord, are sweet as a cluster of grapes, and as a ripe fig, for Jehovah hath filled thy heart with thy kindness. Thy father's predecessor, Kyus Caesar, was a tyrant. Nevertheless, our ambassadors did not address him as a god, preferring death to a breach of the law. "'And Caligula, did he not command them to be thrown to the lions?' "'No, Lord, Kyus Caesar feared the wrath of Jehovah!' Here they raised their heads, for the name of the Almighty Jehovah restored their courage. Growing in his might, they were emboldened to look straight into Nero's eyes. "'Do you accuse the Christians of setting fire to Rome?' "'Lord, we accuse them only because they are public enemies of the human race, the enemies of Rome and of thyself. Long ago they threatened the city and the world with fire. This man will tell the rest. He is a truthful man, for in the veins of his mother flowed the blood of the chosen people.' Nero turned to Kylo. "'Who art thou?' "'Thy admirer, Osiris, and besides a poor Stoic.' "'I detest the Stoics,' cried Nero. "'I hate Thrasia, I hate Mussonius and Cornutus, their sayings I cannot bear, their contempt for art, their voluntary wretchedness, and their filthiness. "'Lord, thy master Seneca has one thousand tables of lemon wood. If it pleases thee, I may have twice as many. I am a Stoic from necessity. Radiant one, encircle my Stoicism with a garland of roses, and place near it a pitcher of wine, and it will sing an acreon in such a manner as to deafen all the apecurians.' Nero, who was pleased with the name of Radiant One, smiled and said, "'I am pleased with thee.' "'This man is worth his weight in gold,' exclaimed Tijolinas. Kylo answered, "'Lord, fill my weight with thy liberality, or my weight will be blown away by the wind. He would not weigh more than Vitelius,' said Caesar. "'Silver-bode, Apollo, my wit is not of lead. I noticed that faith does not hinder thee from addressing me as a god. Oh, immortal one, truth is in thee. The Christians blaspheme against truth, and therefore I hate them. What knowest thou of the Christians?' asked Poppia, a little impatiently. "'Wilt thou permit me to weep, O divinity?' "'No,' said Nero, it annoys me. "'Thou art right threefold for eyes which have seen the ought forever to be free from tears. Oh, Lord, defend me against my enemies.' "'Tell us of the Christians,' said Poppia. "'Oh, Isis,' answered Kylo, "'since my youth I have dedicated myself to philosophy and have searched for truth. I searched for it in the ancient divine philosophers, in the academies of Athens, and in the schools of Alexandria. When I heard of the Christians I presumed that they formed a new kind of school wherein I might find some grains of truth, and unfortunately I made their acquaintance. The first Christian that I met was a physician from Naples, Glockus by name. From him I learned in due cause that they worship a certain Christus, who promised them that he would exterminate all people and destroy all the cities of the world, but would spare them should they assist him in stamping out the children of Ducalian. For this reason, O lady, they hate men. For this reason in their meetings they heap curses on Rome and on all sanctuaries in which homage is given to our gods. Christus was crucified, but he promised them that when Rome was destroyed by fire he would come again into the world, and give them dominion over the universe. Now men will understand why Rome was destroyed by fire. "'Many already understand it, O Lord,' answered Kylo, "'for I visit the garden and the field of Mars and teach, but if you listen to the end you will understand why I demand vengeance. At first Glockus the physician did not reveal to me that their religion taught them hatred of men. He told me on the contrary that Christus is a good God, and that the foundation of their religion is love. My tender heart could not reject such truth. I therefore loved Glockus and trusted him. I divided with him every morsel of bread, every groat. "'Lady, how does thou think he repaid me?' On the road from Naples to Rome he stabbed me with a knife, and my wife, that beautiful and young Bernice, he sold to a slave trader. Oh, let Sophocles knew of my story! But what do I say since one better than Sophocles is listening?' "'Poor man,' said Poppia. "'Whoever has seen the face of Aphrodite is not poor, O Lady, and I see her at this moment. But at that time I sought consolation in philosophy. Coming to Rome I tried to reach the Christian elders in order to obtain justice against Glockus. I thought that they would force him to give up my wife. I became acquainted with their high priest. I know another by the name of Paul, who was a prisoner here, but was liberated afterwards. I made the acquaintance of the son of Zebedee, of Linus, and Clitus and many others. I know where they lived before the conflagration, and I know where they meet. I can show ye an underground grotto in the Vatican hill, and a cemetery beyond the momentum gate where they celebrate their abominable ceremonies. I saw the apostle Peter. I saw Glockus killing children, so that the apostle might have something to sprinkle on the heads of those present. I saw Ligia, the ward of Popponia Grisina, who boasted that though she was unable to bring the blood of a child, she had caused the death of an infant by bewitching the little Augusta thy daughter, O Osiris, and thine O Isis. Does thou hear Caesar, as Poppia, can this be so, exclaimed Caesar. I can forgive wrongs done to myself, continued Kylo, but hearing of yours I wanted to stab her. I was unfortunately stopped by the noble Venisius, whom I love. Venisius, how can that be? Did she not run away from him? She did flee, but he searched for her, as he could not live without her. For a pittance I helped him in his search, and I pointed out to him the house where she lived among the Christians on the other side of the Tiber. We went there together, and with us thy pugilist grotto, whom the noble Venisius hired for protection. But Oursus, the slave of Ligia, killed him. She is a man of enormous strength, O Lord, who could wrench off the head of a bull, as easily as the head of a poppy from its stalk. By Hercules, cried Nero, the man who choked Crotto, is worthy of a statue in the forum, but thou art mistaken or inventing, for Crotto was killed by the knife of Venisius. That is the way in which people lie against the guards, O Lord. I myself saw how the ribs of Crotto were crushed in the hands of Oursus, who then fell upon Venisius. He would have killed him were it not for Ligia. Venisius was afterwards sick for a long time, but they nursed him. They hoped that by their kindness he would become a Christian. Venisius? Yes. And may have Petronius also, inquired Tidgillianus. Kylo writhed, rubbed his hands, and said, I admire thy penetration, master. It may be so. Now I understand why he defended the Christians. But Nero laughed, Petronius a Christian, Petronius an enemy of life and comfort, do not be foolish and ask me to believe it, I am prepared to believe anything else. But the noble Venisius became a Christian, O Lord, I swear it by that lust that emanates from thee, that I speak the truth, and that nothing hurts me so much as falsehood. Pomponia is a Christian, and Ligia and Venisius are Christians. I served them faithfully, but at the request of Glockus the physician, they recompensed me with a flogging in spite of my advanced age, and though I was suffering from hunger and sickness, I have sworn by Hades that I will never forget it. O Lord, avenge my wrongs, and I will deliver unto thee the apostle Peter, the elder's linus, clitis, Glockus, and Crispus, as well as Ligia and Ersis. I will point out to thee where hundreds, yea, thousands of them meet. I will show their houses of prayer and their cemeteries. All thy prisons will not hold them. Without me he could not find their abodes. Up to this time when I was poor I sought consolation in philosophy. Let me find it now in the favors which will be heaped on me. I am old, and I have not enjoyed life. Let that enjoyment commence now. Thou desirous to be a stoic before a full plate, said Nero, whoever gives his service unto thee will be filled by the same. Thou art not mistaken, philosopher! Popea never forgot her enemies, her liking for Vinicius was but a momentary passion, the result of jealousy, anger, and injured self-love. The coldness of the young patrician stung her and filled her heart with stubborn offence. The very fact that he dared to prefer another seemed to her a crime calling for revenge. As for Ligia she had hated her from the very first moment when the beauty of the northern lily caused her uneasiness. Patronius, who spoke of the two narrow hips of the girl, could say what he pleased to Caesar, but not unto the Augusta. The knowing Popea understood at a glance that in all Rome Ligia alone could rival and even surpass her. From that moment she had sworn her ruin. Lord! She cried, Avenge our child! Hason! cried Kylo Hason, otherwise Vinicius will hide her. I will point out the house with her she returned after the fire. I will give thee ten men, go there at once, said Tijolinas. Master, thou hast not seen Croto in the arms of Osus. If thou wilt give me fifty men I will only point out the house from a distance, but if ye do not imprison him I am ruined. Tijolinas looked at Nero. Would it not be better, O divinity, to rid thyself at one time of both the uncle and the nephew? Nero thought for a while and answered, No, not now. People would not believe that Patronius, Vinicius, or Pomponia Grisina fired Rome. They pose as exceedingly beautiful houses. We want other victims to-day, their turn will come next. Then, O Lord, give me soldiers as a guard, said Kylo. See you to this, Tijolinas. Thou wilt, meanwhile, live with me, said the Prefect. Joy beamed from the face of the Greek. I will deliver them all up, O Leehason. Be quick! He shouted with a hoarse voice. CHAPTER VIII. When Patronius left Caesar he gave orders that he should be born to his house on the Carini. This surrounded as it was on three sides by a garden and having in front the small forum of Cecilia had escaped the conflagration. Other Augustalis, who had lost their houses with all their treasures and works of art, dubbed Patronius a lucky man, for a long time past they had spoken of him as the firstborn son of Fortune. More recently, Caesar's friendship had seemed to confirm their opinion. But the firstborn of Fortune might now meditate on the thickleness of his mother, or rather on her likeness to time who devoured his own children. But my husband burned, he said to himself, together with my gems, my Etruscan vases, Alexandrian glasses and Corinthian bronze, Nero might have forgotten his anger by Pollux, and it depended upon me alone to be Prefect to the Praetorians. At this moment I might have held the power to brand Tijalinas as the incendiary, which he is, in fact. I should have placed him in the tunic of torture, delivered him over to the mob, saved the Christians, and rebuilt Rome. Who knows but that a happier period might not have arisen for honest men. I ought to have done that, were it only for Venicius' sake. If the work had proved too hard, I could have surrendered the office of Prefect to him. Nero would not even have attempted opposition. Then Venicius might have baptized all the Praetorians, and even Caesar himself. What harm could that have done me? Nero pious, Nero virtuous, and merciful, this would even be an amusing sight. Such was his light-hearted indifference that he began to laugh. But after a while his thoughts flowed into another channel. He was in Antium, and Paul of Tarsus was speaking to him. He called us the enemies of life, but answer me, Patronius, if Caesar were a Christian and acted according to our doctrines, would not your lives be more secure? During these words he continued, By Castor, even if they were to murder all the Christians here, Paul would find new ones, for as the world cannot stand on Navery, he is necessarily right. But who knows whether Navery may not triumph. I myself, who have learned not a little, did not learn enough to be a great enough rogue. So I may even have to open my veins. But in any event this must have been the end, or if not something similar. I am only sorry for my Eunice and my myrene vase. Eunice, however, is free, and the vase will go with me. Bronzebeard shall not get it by any means. I am also sorry for Vinicius. Life of late had become less burdensome than of your. Nevertheless, I am ready. It is a beautiful world, but most of the people are so based that it is not worthwhile living. Though in Augustali I was a freer man than they supposed. Here he shrugged his shoulders. Perchance they think that at this moment my knees are trembling, that from fear my hair stands on end. But when I reach home I will take a bath in violet water, then my golden-haired lady will herself anoint me, and after refreshment we shall command the singing aloud of that hymn to Apollo, which Anthemius composed. I myself once said that it is not worthwhile to think of death, for it thinks of us in spite of ourselves. How strange if, in reality, there should prove to be Elysian fields, and in them the shades of the departed. In that case Eunice would at once come to me, and we should together wander over meadows and among Asphodel plants. We should find better company there than here. What a farce! What jugglery! What a populous, tasteless, and unpolished! Because of arbiters of elegance could not change these trimalchions into respectable people, by Persephone I have had enough of them. He noticed with surprise that something had already separated him from the world. He had known it well, and had known therefore what to think of it, but now a greater contempt than ever came over him. Surely he had had enough of it all. Then he reflected on the situation. He understood that destruction did not threaten him just yet. Nero had uttered a few choice, lofty, and agreeable words concerning forgiveness which committed him for the moment. He would now be obliged to search for a pretext, and in the search time must elapse. The first thing he will do is to send the Christians into the arena. Said Patronius to himself, next he will think of me. If so, it is not worthwhile to trouble myself about it, nor change my mode of life. Venisius is in more immediate peril, and from this on he thought only of Venisius, whom he was determined to save. Slaves bore his litter hastily through the ruins, the ash heaps and chimneys, with which the Carini was yet filled, but he commanded them to hurry on, so that he might reach home as quickly as possible. Venisius, whose island had been burned, now lived with him, and fortunately was at home. As though seen Ligia today, asked Patronius as he entered, I have just returned from her, harkened to what I have to say and lose no time in questions. It was resolved today at Caesars to lay upon the Christians the guilt of the burning of Rome. Terrible persecutions and tortures await them. Pursuit may begin at any moment. Take Ligia and flee instantly, be it beyond the Alps or to Africa, hurry, for it is nearer from the Palatine to the trans-Tiber than to this place. Venisius was too much of a soldier to lose time in asking questions. He listened with knitted brows, and with a face determined and terrible. It was obvious that his impulse was to defend himself and give battle. I go, said he, one word more, take a purse of gold, take arms, and a few of thy Christian people, in case of need, rescue her. Venisius was already at the door of the hall. Send me news by a slave, Patronius called out. He was left alone. Walking along the columns which embellished the hall, his mind dwelt on all which had come to pass. He knew that Ligia and Linus had returned after the fire to their former home, which, with the greater part of the trans-Tiber, had been spared. This was unfortunate, otherwise it would not have been easy to find them among the crowds of people. This believed, however, that nobody in the Palatine knew where they lived. In such case Venisius would anticipate the Praetorian guards. It also struck him that Tijelenus, wishing to capture as many Christians as possible at a time, must spread the net over all Rome, that is, he would have to distribute the Praetorians in small divisions. If he sent only a few men for Ligia, he thought, that Ligian giant would break their bones, and what will happen if Venisius arrives with assistance? This thought reassured him. Surely armed resistance to the Praetorians were tantamount to war with Caesar. Petronius also knew that if Venisius hid himself from Nero's vengeance, that same vengeance might fall on himself. But he did not stop to think of this. Indeed, he rejoiced at the thought of confounding Nero's plans through those of Tijelenus, and determined not to spare either men or money. People of Tarsus at Antium had converted the greater part of his slaves, wherefore he might be sure that in defending the Christians he could count on their readiness and devotion. The entrance of Eunice interrupted his thoughts. At sight of her his cares and troubles flew and left no trace behind. He forgot Caesar, the disfavor into which he had fallen, the degradation of the Augustalis, the persecution which threatened the Christians and Venisius and Ligia. He only looked upon her with aesthetic eyes, enamored of wonderful forms, and of a mistress who breathed love through such a form, arrayed in a transparent violet robe through which shone her rose-colored body. She was in truth as beautiful as a goddess. Conscious of the admiration she excited, loving Petronius with her whole soul, and ever ready for his caresses, she now began to blush for joy as though she were not a concubine, but an innocent maiden. What has thou to say, Charis? said Petronius, stretching out his hand to her. Inclining her golden head she answered, Anthemius has arrived with his choristers. He asks if it is thy wish to hear him to-day. Let him wait! Let him sing to us after dinner, and near the hearth of the yet-burning ashes we shall listen to the hymn to Apollo. By the groves of Paphos, when I see thee thus robed, it seems to me that Aphrodite, veiled with a portion of the sky, stands before me. Oh, master! said Eunice, come hither, Eunice, embrace me, and surrender me thy mouth, dost thou love me? I could not have loved Zeus more. She pressed her lips to his mouth, trembling in his arms from happiness. After a while Petronius said, suppose the time has arrived when we must separate. Eunice looked in his eyes with fear. How so, master? There not. But who knows whether I may not have to set out on a long voyage? Take me also. Petronius suddenly changed the conversation and asked, Tell me, are there any asphodels on the lawn? The cypresses and the lawns are withered from the fire, and the leaves have fallen from the myrtles. The entire garden wears the aspect of death. All Rome wears the aspect of death. It will shortly be a real graveyard. Must thou know that an edict is about to be issued against the Christians? Then will commence a persecution in which thousands of people will perish. Why should they be punished, master? They are good and quiet people. Just for that very reason. Then let us go to the sea, thy divine eyes cannot look on blood. Yea, but meantime I must bathe. Come to the anointing room and rub unguents on my arms. By the ribbon of Cypria never hast thou appeared to me so beautiful. I will order a bath to be made for thee in the form of a shell, and thou shalt appear like a costly pearl within it. Come, O golden-haired one! They went out. An hour later both of them, their heads wreathed with roses, their eyes covered with mist, rested at a table spread with vessels of gold. They were served by youths attired as cupids. They drank wine from ivy-covered goblets, and heard the hymn to Apollo sung to the music of the harp under the direction of Anthemius. What did they care, though around their villa arose like funeral-pires, the chimneys of the ruined houses, and though gusts of wind scattered the ashes of burned Rome? They felt themselves happy and thought of nothing else but love, which made their lives a divine dream. But before the hymn was at an end a slave entered the hall. Faster, he said in a voice trembling with alarm, a centurion with a detachment of Praetorian guards stands below and at Caesar's command wishes to see thee. The song and the music ceased. All present were alarmed, for Caesar was not accustomed to send Praetorians on friendly errands, and their presence in those days foreboded no good. Petronius was the only one who did not show the slightest fear. He merely said, with the air of one annoyed by two frequent callers, they might have let me dine in peace. Then turning to the slave he said, let them enter. The slave disappeared behind the curtain. A moment later heavy steps were heard, and an acquaintance of Petronius, the centurion-opper, armed and with an iron helmet on his head, entered the hall. No, but Lord, he said, here is a writing from Caesar. Petronius extended his white hand deliberately, took the writing, read it, and handed it with the greatest composure to Eunice. He reads a new book on the Troyad this evening, and commands my presence. I have no order save to deliver the writing, said the centurion. Yes, there will be no reply, but centurion, thou mightest as well rest a little with us, and empty a goblet of wine. Thanks noble lord, gladly will I drink a goblet of wine to thy health, but I cannot remain, for I am on duty. Why did Caesar send the letter by thee, and not by a slave? I know not, master, perchance it was because I was ordered for another service in this direction. I know, said Petronius, against the Christians, true, master. It is long since the pursuit began. Some divisions were dispatched to the trans-Tiber before noon. Thus saying the centurion spilled a little wine in honor of Mars, then he quaffed it, and said, May the gods grant thee thy desires. Take the goblet, and keep it, said Petronius. Then he signalled to Anthemius to finish the hymn to Apollo. Bronzebeard seeks to play with me and Veniceus. He said to himself when the harp sounded anew, I divine his purpose. He wanted to frighten me by sending his summons through a centurion. In the evening the centurion will be asked in what manner I received him. Oh, no! Thou wilt not amuse thyself over much, O malicious and cruel mount-a-bank. I know that thou wilt not forget the offence. I know that my destruction is certain, but if thou thinkest that I will look into thine eyes beseechingly, that thou wilt see in my face either terror or humility, thou deceivest thyself. Caesar writes, master, come if thou desirest, said Eunice, wilt thou go? I am in good health, so that I can even listen to his verses, answered Petronius. I shall go, the more so because Veniceus cannot. After dinner and his usual promenade he placed himself in the hands of his slaves, hairdressers and attendants, who arranged the folds of his garments, and in an hour's time beautiful as a god he had himself borne to the Palatine. It was late, the evening was calm and warm, the moon shone so brightly that the lamp-lighters preceding the litter extinguished the lamps, on the streets and amid the ruins lurked drunken crowds, adorned with garlands of ivy and honeysuckle, carrying in their hands branches of myrtle and laurel procured from Caesar's gardens, an abundance of grain and the expectation of splendid games had filled the popular heart with joy. Here and there songs were heard, magnifying the divine night and power of love. Here and there people danced in the moonlight, the slaves had to force away for the litter of the noble Petronius, and then the mob fell back and shouted in honour of their favourite. He thought of Veniceus and marveled why he had no news from him. He was an apecurian and an egotist, but through his associations, now with Paul of Tarsus, now with Veniceus, and hearing daily of the Christians, he had changed a little without being aware of it. The seas, as it were, had wafted upon his soul an unknown seed. The welfare of others occupied him as well as his own. To Veniceus he had always been attached. In his youthful days he had loved Veniceus's mother, his own sister. Now therefore, when he was taking an interest in his nephew's affairs, he looked upon them with as much concern as he would have looked on a tragedy. He did not lose hope that Veniceus had anticipated the Praetorians and fled with Ligia, or at the worst had rescued her. But he would have liked to be sure of this. He foresaw that he might be called upon to answer various questions for which it would be well to be prepared. Hulting in front of the house of Tiberius, he alighted from his litter. After a while he entered Caesar's hall, already filled with courtiers. His friends of yesterday, though somewhat astonished at the fact that he had been invited, moved away from him. But he mingled among them beautiful, independent, careless and self-confident, like one who has favours to distribute. Seeing this, some were disturbed, lest their coldness towards him might be premature. Caesar however feigned not to see him, and made no response to his bow, being apparently occupied in conversation. But Tijellinus approached and said, Good evening, arbiter of elegance, thus thou still assert that Rome was not burned by the Christians? Petronius shrugged his shoulders, and tapping Tijellinus on his shoulder-blade, as he would a freedman, answered, Thou knowest as well as I what is true. I did not venture to compare myself with thee in wisdom. For once thou art right. Caesar reads us a new song from the Troyad, thou wilt be obliged, instead of screaming like a peacock, to say something approaching absurdity. Tijellinus bit his lips. He was not overjoyed that Caesar should have decided to read a new song, for that opened out a field in which he could not compare favourably with Petronius. It actually happened that, at the time of the reading, Nero involuntarily, from old habit, turned his eyes toward Petronius with careful scrutiny as if to read his face. Petronius as he listened, raised his brows, approved at times, and at others, intensified his attention as if he wanted to be sure that he had heard correctly. Some parts he praised, others he criticized, recommending modifications or corrections. Nero could not fail to recognize that others in their fulsome praises thought only of themselves, while Petronius occupied himself with poetry for its own sake. He alone understood it. When he happened to praise, one could be certain that the verses were good. Little by little he was drawn into a discussion with him. Suddenly when Petronius questioned the fitness of a certain expression, he said, "'Thou wilt see in the last song why I used it.' Ah! thought Petronius, then we shall wait for the last poem. Many in the audience thought to themselves, "'Woe is me! Petronius, having ample time, may return to favour and even overthrow Tijelinas.' They began to flock around him, but the close of the evening was less fortunate. When Petronius was taking leave, Caesar asked suddenly, with blinking eyes and a face full of malicious delight, "'Why did Vannisius not come?' Had Petronius been certain that Vannisius and Ligia were already beyond the gates of the city, he might have replied, "'He was married with thy permission and left.' But observing the odd expression of Nero, he answered, "'Thy invitation, O divine one, did not find him at home. "'Tell him that I shall be glad to see him,' answered Nero, "'And tell him that from me, not to miss the games in which the Christians shall appear.' These words alarmed Petronius. They seemed to him a direct allusion to Ligia. Seated in his litter he gave orders for even greater dispatch than in the morning. But this was no easy task. In front of Tiberius's house stood a dense and tumultuous crowd, drunk as before, but not singing and dancing. They were evidently excited. Stories were heard from a distance which Petronius at first could not comprehend, but these increased in volume, until at last they changed into one wild roar. "'The Christians to the lions!' Splendid litters of courteurs hustled through the howling multitude. From the depths of the burned streets poured in new crowds, who, hearing the cries, repeated them. The news flew from mouth to mouth that the pursuit had been continued since noon, and that already a great number of incendiaries had been caught. Along the new streets and the old, through alleys lying among the ruins near the Palatine, along all the hills and gardens, through the length and breadth of Rome rang ever-increasing shouts, "'The Christians to the lions!' Asses, thought Petronius with contempt, the people are worthy of their Caesar.' And it struck him that a people propped up by force, by cruelty such as even barbarians had no conception of, mad and disillute could not endure. Rome dominated the world, but it was also its sore. From it was wafted a putrid odor. Over-decaying life hovered the shadow of death. More than once had this been spoken of even among the Augustalis, but never before had the truth come so near home to Petronius that the garlanded chariot upon which stood the statue of Rome in the guise of a triumphator, dragging behind it a chained herd of nations, was hastening on to a precipice. The life of the world-ruling city appeared to him a sort of mad dance, an orgy which must soon come to a close. He now perceived that the Christians alone had a new foundation for life, but alas, before long not a vestige would be left of the Christians, and what then the mad dance would continue under the lash of Nero. When Nero was gone another would be found like him or even worse, since among such people and such patricians there was no hope for a better one. There would be a new orgy, vile and fouler than ever, but the orgy could not last forever. Sleep must terminate it, even through very exhaustion. Brooding thus Petronius felt greatly troubled. Was life worthwhile if spent in uncertainty, with no aim saved to gaze upon a world of this sort? The Angel of Death was no less beautiful than the Angel of Sleep. He also had wings on his shoulders. The litter stopped in front of Petronius's door. It was opened at once by the ever-watchful porter. As the noble Vinicius returned, asked Petronius, a moment ago Master, answered the slave, so he could not have rescued her, mused Petronius. Moving aside his toga he made his way into the hall. Vinicius was sitting on a three-legged stool, his head bent almost to his knees and his hands on his head. At the sound of steps he raised his stone-like face in which his eyes shone with a feverish gleam. "'Didst thou arrive too late?' asked Petronius. "'Yes, they had taken her before noon. Has thou seen her? Yes. Where is she?' Petronius shuddered and cast an inquiring glance on Vinicius. "'No,' said the latter, comprehending his meaning, they did not thrust her down in the tullianum, nor in the middle prison. I paid the guard to surrender his own room to her. Ursus took his place at the threshold and now watches over her. Why did not Ursus defend her? They sent fifty Praetorians and Linus prohibited him. But Linus? Linus is dying. That is why they did not take him. What do you propose to do? To rescue her, or die with her, for I also believe in Christ.' Though Vinicius spoke quietly, his voice betrayed his despair. Petronius' heart beat with responsive pity. "'I understand thee,' he said, but what is thy plan of rescue? I paid large sums to the guards, first to protect her from indignity, and second to make no effort to impede her flight. When will that be accomplished?' They replied that they could deliver her up to me at once, as they feared for their responsibility. As soon as the prison is crowded and the register of the prisoners becomes confused, they will deliver her to me. But this is a last resource. Do thou save her and me? Thou art Caesar's friend. He himself gave her to me. Go to him and save us!' In lieu of replying, Petronius called a slave and commanded him to bring two dark mantles and two short swords. Then he turned to Vinicius. "'On the road, I shall answer thee,' he said. "'Meanwhile take a mantle, take arms, and we will go to the prison. There give the guards a hundred thousand Cesterses. Give them twice or even five times as much. If they agree to free Ligia immediately, otherwise it will be too late. "'Let us go,' cried Vinicius. "'Now listen to me,' said Petronius, as they reached the street. We must lose no time. From now on I am in disgrace. My own life hangs suspended on a hair, therefore I can get nothing from Caesar. Worse still, I am certain that to spite me he would refuse my request. Were it not for this, would I have counseled thee to flee with her or to rescue her? If thou shouldst succeed in escaping, the wrath of Caesar will fall upon me. He might concede thy request today, but not mine. Nevertheless count not on that. Nothing else remains for thee to do. If this does not succeed, then there will be time for other remedies. For the present know that Ligia is a prisoner, not only because of her belief in Christ, but because Popeus' anger is against her and thee, and she persecutes you both. Has thou forgotten that thou didst offend thee Augusta by rejecting her? She knows that Ligia was the cause of the rejection. She has hated her from the first. Thus before she sought to destroy her by attributing to her the death of her child by witchcraft. Thus the finger of papia is in all that is now happening. Thou art now able to answer the question why Ligia was the first to be imprisoned? Who could have pointed out the house of Linus? But I can tell you that she has been shattered for some time. I know that I ring thy soul and tear the last shred of hope from thee. But I say all this purposely, for if thou failest to free her before they sent a hint of the purpose, then ye are both lost. True, I understand all," answered Vinicius in a hollow voice. Owing to the lateness of the hour, the streets were deserted. Further conversation was interrupted by a drunken gladiator. He reeled against Patronius and placed his hand on his shoulder. Breathing into his face the odor of wine, he shouted in a hoarse voice, "'The Christians to the lions!' "'Mermilon,' was Patronius' quiet answer, "'Harken to good advice, hurry on thy way.' The drunken gladiator seized Patronius by the other hand. "'Shout instantly, the Christians to the lions, or I will break thy neck.'" Patronius' nerves had had enough of these vociferations. From the time he had left the Palatine they had shocked him like a nightmare and deafened him. So when he saw the uplifted hand ready to strike him, the measure of his patience was filled. "'Friend,' he said, "'thou smellest of wine and impetest my way.' So saying, he ran the short weapon with which he had armed himself up to the hilt in the man's breast, taking Vinicius by the arm he moved on as though nothing had happened. Caesar said to me to-day, Ask Vinicius in my name to be present at the games in which the Christians will appear. Perhaps thou comprehend what he means. They wish to extract joy from thy pain. This is a fact. This may be the reason why thou and I have not yet been imprisoned. If thou art not able to take her from prison, I know not. Perhaps Actia will intercede in thy behalf. But can she do it? Thy Sicilian lands may also tempt Tidilinas. Make the experiment." "'I will give him all that I possess,' entered Vinicius. Then the Carini to the Forum was not far. They soon arrived there. Night was already pailing, and the outlines of the walls of the castle could be discerned. Suddenly while they were turning toward the Mamertine prison, Petronius stopped and said, "'Pretorians! It is too late!' And in fact the prison was surrounded by a double row of soldiers. The dawn silvered their iron helmets and the points of their javelins. Vinicius's face grew as pale as marble. "'Let us go,' he said. For a moment they stood near the lines. Petronius, who was gifted with an extraordinary memory, knew not only the chiefs, but nearly all the Pretorian soldiers. He soon discovered one of his old acquaintances, who was the leader of a cohort. He nodded to him. "'What does this mean, Niger?' he asked. "'Did they order you to guard the prison?' "'Yes, noble Petronius. The prefect feared last attempts might be made to rescue the incendiaries.' "'Have you an order to refuse admittance?' inquired Vinicius. "'No, master, we have none. Friends will visit the prisoners, and thus we shall be enabled to seize more Christians.' "'Then let me in,' said Vinicius. Pressing Petronius's hands he said to him, "'See, Actia, I will come to you for her answer.' "'Come,' replied Petronius. At this moment from beneath the ground and beyond the thick walls was heard the sound of singing, a hymn low and faint at first, by degrees it swelled in volume. Voices of men, women, and children formed together a harmonious chorus. The whole prison began to resound like a harp in the quiet dawn. They were not voices of anguish or despair, but on the contrary of joy and triumph. The soldiers looked at one another in amazement. In the sky appeared the golden and rosy glimmer of the morning. CHAPTER IX The clamour, the Christians to the lions, arose continuously in all parts of the city. From the first not only did nobody doubt that the Christians were the incendiaries, but nobody wished to doubt, since their punishment would yield amusement for everyone. Nevertheless it was fancied that the catastrophe would not have been so severe were it not for the anger of the gods. For this reason purifying sacrifices were ordered in the sanctuaries. After consultation of the Sibylene books, the Senate ordered solemnities and public prayers to Vulcan, Ceres, and Proserpina. Matrons laid offerings before Juno. A great many of them went in procession to the seashore to draw water and besprinkle the statue of the goddess. Married women prepared feasts for the gods and night watches. All Rome purified itself from sin, brought offerings, and reconciled itself with the immortals. Meanwhile, broad new streets were laid out in the midst of the burned place. Here and there foundations were already laid for spacious edifices, palaces, and sanctuaries. But first of all was constructed with unprecedented speed, an enormous wooden amphitheater, in which the Christians were to suffer. Soon after the consultation in the House of Tiberius, orders were sent out to the proconsuls to procure wild beasts. Tijellinas emptied the menageries of all Italian cities, not accepting the smallest. At his command gigantic hunts were ordered in Africa, in which all the natives were forced to take part. Elephants and tigers were ordered from Asia, crocodiles and hippopotami from the Nile, lions from the Atlas, wolves and bears from the Pyrenees, savage dogs from Ireland, Molossian dogs from Epirus, bisons and gigantic wild bulls from Germany. The great number of prisoners would make the games surpass in magnitude all hitherto seen. Tiber desired to drown the memory of the conflagration in blood to intoxicate Rome with it, hence the flow of blood would be more abundant than had ever been known. The people were eager to help the guards and the Praetorians in their hunt for Christians. It was not a difficult task, for whole crowds of them encamped among the people in the midst of the gardens and openly made known their faith. When they were surrounded they knelt, and singing hymns permitted themselves to be led away without resistance. Their patience only increased the anger of the mob, who, not understanding its source, looked upon it as wrath and a hardened endurance in crime. Madness seized the persecutors, often the rabble rested Christian captives from the Praetorians and tore them to pieces. Women were dragged to prison by their hair, children's heads were dashed against the stones. Thousands of howling people ran wildly through the streets day and night. They searched for victims among the ruins in chimneys and in the cellars. In front of the prisons, around fires and casks of wine, were celebrated bacchanalian feasts and dances. In the evening the noise of the drunken crowd, like the roar of thunder, reverberated through the whole city. The mob and the Praetorians daily brought in new victims. He was extinguished. It appeared as though the citizens in their wild frenzy had forgotten everything except one clamour, the Christians to the lions. The days and nights were sultrier than ever before known in Rome. The very air seemed to be filled with madness, blood, and crime. The marvelous lust for cruelty was met by an equally marvelous desire for martyrdom. The confessors of Christ went willingly to death. Yea, they even sought death, until they were held back by the command of their superiors, who charged them to be-take themselves out of the city in subterranean places near the Appian Way, and in the suburban vineyards belonging to patrician Christians. These had so far escaped imprisonment, it was known perfectly well on the Palatine that among the Christians were numbered Flavius Tomatilla, Pomponia Grisina, Cornelius Pudens, and Vinicius. Sure, however, feared that the crowd would not listen to accusations of incendiarism against citizens of this stripe, since it was above all necessary to convince the people. Punishment and vengeance against these were deferred until later. Those who thought that the patricians' safety was owing to Actia's influence were mistaken. Patronius, after parting with Vinicius, had gone directly to Actia to ask help for Ligia, but she could only offer him tears, for she lived in suffering and neglect, and was only tolerated so long as she hid herself from Papia and Caesar. Nevertheless, she visited Ligia in prison and brought her clothing and food, and at the same time protected her from injury at the hands of the prison guards, who, by the way, were already bribed. Patronius could not forget that had it not been for him and his project of taking Ligia from the house of Aulus, the maiden would most likely have not now been in prison. He was eager, moreover, to win the game against Tijalinas, so he spared neither time nor expense. In the course of a few days he interviewed Seneca, Domitius Afer, Crispinilla, through whom he wished to reach Papia, Terpenus, Diodorus, and the beautiful Pythagoras, and finally Alloturus and Paris, to whom Caesar seldom refused anything. With the help of Chrysothemus, now the mistress of Vatinius, he tried to gain even his aid. In all cases he was unsparing of his promises of favours as well as his money. But all their efforts were fruitless. Seneca, uncertain of his own morrow, argued that the Christians, even if they had not burned Rome, ought to be exterminated for the good of the city. He justified the coming slaughter from a logical standpoint. Terpenus and Diodorus accepted money, but did nothing in return. Vatinius reported to Caesar that an effort had been made to bribe him. Alloturus alone, who at the beginning of the persecution was hostile to the Christians, took pity on them, and dared to remind Caesar of the imprisoned maiden and to intercede in her behalf. Yet he obtained nothing but the answer. Does thou think that my soul is less than that of Brutus, who for Rome's welfare did not even spare his own sons? When Alloturus repeated that reply to Petronius, the latter said, Now that Caesar has compared himself to Brutus, there is no salvation. He was sorry for Vatinius, and he feared lest he might commit suicide. For the present, he said to himself, he is supported by his efforts to save her, by the sight of her, and by his own sufferings. But when all plans fail, and the spark of hope is extinguished, by Caster, he will not survive, and will throw himself on his sword. Vatinius could understand a death of this sort better than he could the love and suffering of Vinicius. Meanwhile Vinicius was doing his best to save Ligia. He visited the Augustalis and unbent his pride to crave their assistance. Through Vitellius he offered Tijellinus his Sicilian lands and all he might ask. But Tijellinus, apparently not wishing to offend the Augusta, refused. To go to Caesar himself, kneel down before him, embrace his knees, and supplicate him would lead to nothing. Vinicius it is true, wished to do this, but Petronius, learning his purpose, asked, Suppose he should refuse thee, or answer thee with a jest, or with a foul threat, what wouldst thou do? Upon this the features of Vinicius contracted with pain and rage, and between his set jaws his teeth gritted together. Yes, said Petronius, I advise thee against this, if thou wouldst not close all roads of rescue. Vinicius checked himself, and, passing his hand over his forehead, wiped off cold perspiration. No, no, he cried, I am a Christian! And thou wilt forget this, as thou didst forget it a moment ago. END OF PART 3 CHAPTER IX All plans had failed. Vinicius had humiliated himself even to the extent of seeking support from the freedmen and the slaves of both Caesar and Papia. He paid enormous sums for empty promises. By rich gifts he won only their goodwill. He found the first husband of Papia and secured a letter from him. He made a present of a villa in Antium to Rufius, her son by the first marriage. He only succeeded in angering Caesar, who disliked his stepson. He dispatched a special courier to Papia's second husband, Otho, in Spain, offering him all his possessions. At last he realized that he was but the plaything of these people, and that if he had shown less anxiety about the imprisonment of Ligia, he might have freed her sooner. Petronius also realized this. Meanwhile day passed after day, and the amphitheater was finished. The entrance tickets to the morning games were already distributed. But now the morning games, on account of the unprecedented number of victims, were to continue for days and weeks and even months. They did not know where to lodge the multitude of Christians. The prisons were overcrowded and fear was raging among them. The Puticulli, the common pits where slaves were confined, also began to be filled, and it was feared lest an epidemic should break out and spread over the whole town. Therefore haste was necessary. All these reports came to the ears of Venetius and extinguished the last spark of hope. While there was yet time something seemed possible, but now this time had passed. The spectacle must begin. Ligia might be brought any day into the dungeon of the Circus, the only outlet to which was the arena. Venetius knew not where fate or superior force might throw her. He visited every circus, bribing the guards and the keepers of the wild beasts, and proposing to them plans which they could not execute. At times he recognized that the utmost he could hope for was to lessen the horrors of her death. Then he would feel that not brains, but burning coals filled his skull. He had no thought about living her. He resolved to perish with her. His fear was lest pain might burn the life out of him ere the horrible end arrived. Patronius and all his friends thought that any day might open to him the kingdom of shadows. The face of Venetius was black and resembled those waxen masks which were kept in the sanctuaries of the tutelor deities. His features grew cold. He seemed unconscious of all that was going on around him. If one spoke to him he raised his hand mechanically to his head, and pressing his temples with the palm of his hands looked at the speaker with inquiry and dismay. He passed his knights with urses at Ligius' door in the prison. When she ordered him to leave and seek rest he returned to Patronius and paced along the hall till morning. Thou hast a right to destroy thyself but not her. Remember what Sagenius' daughter suffered before death, said Patronius. He was not entirely sincere in this speech, for Venetius concerned him more than Ligia, but he saw that he could do nothing to restrain him from a dangerous step saved to assure him that he would draw down irrevocable peril on Ligia. In this he was right, for on the Palatine they expected the visit of the young tribune and had prepared themselves for it. But the sufferings of Venetius were too great even for a strong man. From the moment when Ligia had been imprisoned and the glory of the coming martyrdom had fallen upon her, he not only loved her a hundred fold more, but actually adored her, giving her almost religious honour as he would do to a divinity. Now that he must lose that beloved and adored being, now that death and something worse than death might befall her, the blood froze in his veins. His soul was changed into one groan. His thoughts were confused. At times it seemed to him that his head was filled with fires which would either burn or split it. He ceased to understand why Christ, as the merciful one, as God, did not come to aid those who confess him, why the smoky walls of the Palatine did not sink into the ground, and with them Nero and the Augustalis, the Praetorian camp, and the whole city with its burden of crime. He thought it could not and ought not to be otherwise. All that his eyes gazed upon, all that was shattering his soul and breaking his heart, seemed a dream. But the roaring of the wild beasts awoke him to the fact that it was a reality, the noise of the axes under which the arena rose told him it was true, and that truth was emphasised by the howlings of the populace and the crowded state of the prisons. Then his faith in Christ was shaken, and that was a new torture, probably the most awful of all. It was at this moment that Petronius had said to him, Remember what the daughter of Sajanus suffered before her death. Slaves often found him kneeling with his hands raised, or lying prostrate with his face to the earth, praying to Christ, for he was his last hope, everything had failed, Ligia could only be rescued by a miracle, and in order that she might be saved by a miracle, Denicius beat the stones of the floor with his brow. There still remained to him the knowledge that Peter's prayers were of more value than his. Peter had promised Ligia to him, Peter had baptized him, Peter himself performed miracles, let him give help and rescue. One night he sought the apostle, the Christians, of whom only a few remained, had hidden him carefully even from one another, lest the weaker in spirit might betray him unwittingly or unintentionally. Denicius, in the midst of general confusion and terror, occupied only with his efforts to get Ligia out of prison, had lost sight of the apostle. From the time of his baptism he had seen him but once, and that was before the beginning of the persecution. But going to the quarrymen in whose hut he had been baptized, he learned from him that there would be a meeting of Christians in the vineyards situated outside the Porto Solaria, belonging to Cornelius Pudens. The quarrymen undertook to guide him to the vineyard, assuring him that he would find Peter there. When it became dark they started, passed beyond the walls, walked through hollows overgrown with reeds, and reached the vineyard, which lay in a wild and secluded place. The meeting was held in a wine shed. As Denicius neared the place, the murmur of prayer reached his ears. On entering he saw, by the dim light of a lantern, several scores of kneeling people absorbed in prayer. They recited a litany, a chorus of voices, male and female, repeated every moment, Christ have mercy! Deep and heart-rending sorrow were expressed in those voices. Peter was present. He was kneeling in front, near a wooden cross fastened to the wall of the shed. He was lost in prayer. Denicius recognized him from a distance by his white hair and uplifted hands. The first thought of the young patrician was to advance through the kneeling people, cast himself at the feet of the apostle, and cry, Help! But either out of a sense of the decorum due to prayer, or because of a weakness which bent his knees under him, he began to repeat, groaning and swinging his hands, Christ have mercy! Had he been fully conscious he would have realized that his prayer was not the only one with a groan in it, and that he was not the only supplicant who brought here pain, sorrow, and grief. There was no one present in that meeting who had not lost dear ones, at a time when the most zealous and the boldest believers were already prisoners, when with every moment news was received of new insults and tortures inflicted upon the prisoners. The magnitude of the calamity exceeded all imagination. When only a handful of Christians remained, there was not one heart in the midst of them which was not alarmed in faith, and did not ask doubtingly, Where is Christ? Why does he tolerate evil so that it becomes mightier than God? Meanwhile they besought him in despair for mercy, for in each soul they're still smoldered a spark of hope that he would come, destroy evil, throw Nero into the abyss, and rule the world. They still looked toward the sky, they still listened, they still prayed with trembling. Vinicius also, as he repeated Christ have mercy, was seized with such an ecstasy as he had once before experienced in the quarryman's hut. Now they call on him from the depths of their sorrow, now Peter calls on him. At any moment the heavens might open, the earth be shaken to its foundations, and he appear in infinite glory, with stars at his feet merciful but terrible. He would resuscitate his faithful ones and command the abyss to swallow up their persecutors. Vinicius covered his face with both hands and cast himself to the ground. Silence fell around him at once as if fear had hushed the voices of all present. It seemed to him that now at last something must happen that the moment for a miracle had arrived. He was certain that when he arose and opened his eyes he would see a light blinding to mortals. But the silence was unbroken, until interrupted by the sobbing of the women. Vinicius rose and looked with dazed eyes around him. In the shed, instead of heavenly glory, flickered the dim glow of the lanterns. The moon penetrated through an opening in the roof, filling the shed with a silvery light. The people kneeling around Vinicius raised their tearful eyes in silence toward the cross. Here and there sobbing was heard, and from the outside came the whistling of the watchman. Then Peter arose, turned toward the congregation, and said, Children, lift up your hearts towards our Redeemer, and offer to him your tears. Then he was silent. Suddenly from the midst of the congregation the voice of a woman, sorrowful and complaining, was heard, I am a widow, I had only one son who supported me. Return him to me, O Lord! Silence reigned again. Peter was standing near the kneeling group, old and full of care. In that moment he appeared to them the personification of decrepitude and weakness. Then another voice began to complain, Executioner's dishonored my daughter, yet Christ allowed it! Then a third voice. I remain alone with the children, and when I am taken, who will give them bread and water? Then a fourth. Linus, who then they spared at first, they have taken again and put to torture, O Lord! Then a fifth. When we return home the Praetorians will seize us, where shall we hide? Woe to us, who will protect us! Thus in the silence of night rose complaint after complaint. The old fisherman closed his eyes and shook his white head over the pain and suffering of humanity. Silence reigned again, only the watchman gave out a low whistle beyond the shed. Vinicius sprang up again so as to push through the group to the apostle and demand help from him, but of a sudden he saw in front of him, as it were, a precipice, a sight that took the strength from his feet. What would happen if the apostle should confess his own weakness, and affirm that the Roman Caesar was mightier than Christ of Nazareth? Terrified at that thought, he felt that in such case not only would the remainder of his hope fall into the precipice, but also he and Ligia, and his love for Christ, his faith, and everything for which he lived, nothing would remain save death and a night like a boundless sea. And now Peter spoke, beginning in a voice so low that one could barely hear him. My children, I have seen how on Golgotha men nailed God to the cross. I heard the sound of the hammers, and saw how they raised the cross so that the mob might gaze at the death of the Son of Man. And I saw them open his side and saw how he died, and when I returned from the cross I cried aloud in pain as ye are now crying, Woe, woe, Lord, thou our God, why hast thou permitted this? Why hast thou died? Why hast thou afflicted our hearts when we believed thy kingdom would come? But he, our Lord and our God, rose from the dead the third day, and was among us until he entered his kingdom in great glory. And we, conscious of our little faith, were strengthened in heart, and from that time we have been sowing the seed. Turning to that side whence the first complaint had come, he spoke in a stronger voice. Why dost thou complain? God surrendered himself to torture and death, and ye wish that he should shield ye from it. O people of little faith, have ye received his teaching, as he promised ye nothing but life? He comes to you and says to you, come follow in my path. He raised you to himself, and ye fasten your hands to the earth and call, Lord, help. In the presence of God I am dust, but before you I am the apostle of God and his vicar. I say unto you in the name of Christ, there is not death before you, but life, not torture, but endless joy, not tears and groans, but singing, not slavery, but dominion. I, the apostle of God, tell thee, O widow, thy son, will not die, but will be born into glory, into everlasting life, and thou wilt rejoin him. I promise thee, O Father, whose chaste daughter has been assaulted by the executioners, that thou wilt find her whiter than the lilies of Hebron. To you, mothers, bereaved of your children, to you who have lost fathers, to you who complain, to you who must witness the death of your beloved ones, to you who are distressed, unfortunate, disturbed, to you who have to die, in the name of Christ I tell ye, that ye will awake us from sleep to a happier condition, and as from night to the light of God, in the name of Christ let the scales fall from your eyes and be your hearts inflamed. He raised his hands as though in command the hearers felt new blood coursing through their veins and a shaking up of their bones, before them was no longer standing a care-worn and feeble old man but a mighty one who had aroused their souls and lifted them up from dust and terror. Amen! cried several voices. The light from his eyes was constantly increasing, power issued from him, when the amen ceased he continued to speak, ye so in weeping so that ye may reap in joy, why then fear the power of evil, above the earth, above Rome, above the walls of the city is the Lord who dwells with you, the stones will be wet from tears, the sands will be saturated with blood, the valleys will be filled with your bodies, but I say unto you ye will come forth victorious, the Lord will conquer this city of crime, oppression, and haughtiness, and ye are his legions, and as he has redeemed with blood and torture the sins of the world, so he wishes that you should redeem with torture and blood this nest of unrighteousness, he lets you know this through my lips. And Peter spread his arms and fixed his eyes on the heavens, the hearts of the people almost ceased beating in their breasts, for they felt that he gazed upward because he beheld something invisible to their mortal eyes, his whole face had changed, a serene light illuminated it, for a while he was silent as if speechless through rapture, but after a moment they heard his voice. Thou art hero, Lord, and showest me the way. How can this be, O Christ, not in Jerusalem, but in this city of Satan, dost thou desire to establish thy capital? Dost thou wish to build up thy church with these tears and blood? Here, where Nero rules today, is thy eternal kingdom to stand. O Lord, Lord, and thou commandest these frightened ones to lay the foundation of the new holy Zion upon their bones, and thou commandest my spirit to rule over it and over the peoples of the world, and thou porst the fountain of thy strength upon the weak, so that they are made strong, and now thou commandest me to feed from here thy sheep until the consummation of the ages. O be thou praised in thy decrees whereby thou hast ordained victory. Hosanna! Hosanna! The timid arose, in the doubters, new streams of faith flowed, some voices shouted, Hosanna! Others, for Christ! Then came silence, the bright summer lightning lit up the interior of the shed and the faces pale from emotion. Peter, in a trance, prayed for a long time more, but awakening at last he turned upon the group his inspired face radiant with light and said, See how the Lord hath vanquished doubt in you, so that he also might go to victory in his name. And though he knew that they would conquer, although he knew what would spring from their tears and their blood, nevertheless his voice trembled when he began to bless them with the sign of the cross. And now, he said, I bless you, my children, for torture, for death, for eternity. They gathered around him, calling out, We are ready, but guard thy holy head, for thou art the vicar of Christ performing his office. With these words they grasped his mantle. He then placed his hands on their heads and blessed everyone separately as a father blesses children whom he sends on a long journey. And immediately they began to leave the shed, for they had to hurry to their houses and from them to the prisons and the arenas. Their thoughts were away from the world, their souls soared towards eternity, and they walked as though in a dream or as in a trance they were opposing with all the force that was in them, the excruciating force of the beast. Nereus, the servant of Pudens, took the apostle and led him through a secret path to his house. But in the midst of the clear night Vinicius followed them, and when they at last reached the hut of Nereus, he threw himself suddenly at the feet of the apostle. He recognized him and asked, What does thou wish, my son? Vinicius, after what he had heard in the shed, did not dare ask anything. He only embraced the apostle's feet with both hands and pressed his brow to them. In this dumb fashion alone he called for mercy. I know, said Peter, they have taken from thee the maiden whom thou lovest. Pray for her. Lord, groaned Vinicius, tightening his embrace upon the feet of the apostle, Lord, I am a worm, I am all unworthy, but thou hast known Christ. Do thou ask him and stand up in her behalf? From very anguish he trembled like a leaf. He beat his forehead against the earth. Knowing the apostle's power, he knew that he alone could restore her to him. Peter was moved by that anguish. He remembered how once Ligia herself, attacked by Christmas, lay at his feet in the same manner asking for mercy. He remembered also that he lifted her and comforted her. So now he raised Vinicius also. My dear son, he said, I will pray for her, but remember what I told those doubting ones, that God himself had passed through torture upon the cross, and remember that after this life another begins, an everlasting one. I know, I heard, replied Vinicius, breathing heavily through his pale lips, but thou seest, master, that I cannot, if blood is wanted, ask Christ to accept mine. I am a soldier. Let him torment me doubly, ye triply what is prepared for her. She is still a child, master, and I believe that he is mightier than Caesar mightier. Thou didst love her thyself. Thou hast even blessed her. She is yet an innocent child. He bowed again and, putting his face to Peter's knees, repeated, Thou hast known Christ, master. Thou hast known he will listen to thee. Stand up on her behalf. Peter closed his eyelids and prayed earnestly. The summer lightning once more flashed in the sky. In its illumination Vinicius gazed on the apostles' lips, waiting for the verdict of life or death. The silence was only broken by the calling of the quails in the vineyard, and the distant dull noise of the treadmills near the Via Solaria. Vinicius, said the apostle at last, does thou believe in him? Master were it otherwise would I be here? answered Vinicius. Then believe to the end, for faith moves mountains. Even though thou wouldst to see the maiden under the sword of the executioner, or in the lion's mouth, believe yet, for Christ is able to save. Believe and pray to him, and I will pray with thee. Then he raised his face toward heaven. Merciful Christ, he cried, looked down upon a bruised heart and comfort it. Oh, merciful Christ, moderate the wind to the fleece of the lamb. Merciful Christ, who didst ask the Father to turn away the bitter cup from thy mouth. Turn it away from the mouth of this thy servant. Amen. And Vinicius, stretching his hands towards the stars, said groaning, O Christ, I am thine, take me instead of her. In the east the sky began to pale. End of Part 3, Chapter 10. Part 3, Chapter 11 of Quo Vadis, a tale of the time of Nero. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Quo Vadis by Henrik Sinkiewicz, translated by Benin and Malevsky. Part 3, Chapter 11. Vinicius, on leaving the apostle, went to the prison with a heart strengthened by faith. In the depth of his soul terror and despair still clamored for utterance, but he subdued those voices. It seemed to him unlikely that the intercession of the vicar of God and the power of prayer should be inefficacious. He feared not to hope he feared only doubt. I will believe in his loving-kindness, he said to himself, even if I see her in the jaws of the lion. At this thought, though his heart trembled within him, and cold perspiration stood on his temples, he nevertheless believed. Each throb of his heart was a prayer. He began to perceive that faith moves mountains, for he felt within himself a certain living strength which he had never before known. It seemed to him that he could accomplish with it certain things which yesterday would have been impossible. At times he almost believed that the danger had passed. When despair revived in his soul, he recalled the memory of that night and of that holy gray face raised to heaven in prayer. No! Christ will not refuse his first disciple and the shepherd of the flock. Christ will not refuse him, and I do not doubt. And he ran to the prison as a messenger bringing good news. But there an unusual thing awaited him. All the Praetorian guards who served their turn at the Mamerteen prison knew him, and usually they did not cause him the slightest trouble. This time, however, the lines did not open, but the Centurion approached him, saying, Your pardon, noble tribune, we have an order to-day not to admit anybody. An order, repeated Vinicius growing pale. The soldier looked at him in pity, and answered, Yes, master, an order from Caesar. There are many sick people in prison, and possibly it is feared that visitors might spread infection through the city. But thou didst say that the command was for to-day only. The guards change at noon. Vinicius silently uncovered his head. It seemed to him that the headdress which he wore was of lead. The soldier came nearer and whispered, Be of good cheer, master. The guards and urses are watching over her. He bowed and quickly drew on the flagstone with his long-golic sword, the outline of a fish. Vinicius looked at him keenly, And thou art a praetorian, till I be in there, replied the soldier, pointing at the prison. I also worshiped Christ. Praised be his name, I know, master, that I cannot admit thee in the prison. But if thou writest a letter, I will give it to the watch. Thanks to thee, brother. Pressing the soldier's hand he left. The headdress ceased to weigh upon him like lead. The morning sun had risen over the walls of the prison, and with its radiance, hope entered into the heart of Vinicius. That Christian soldier seemed to him a new witness to the power of Christ. After taking a few steps he halted, gazing at the rosy clouds above the capital and the temple of Jupiter State, or he exclaimed, I have not seen her this day, O Lord, but I have faith in thy mercy. Petronius had been waiting for him at home. As usual he had been turning night into day, and so had returned but a little while before. He had succeeded nevertheless in taking his bath and anointing himself for sleep. I have news for thee, he said. I was with Tullius Sinicio today. Caesar was likewise there. I know not how it entered the mind of Augusta to bring little Rufius with her. It may have been to soften the heart of Caesar by his beauty, unfortunately the child overpowered by drowsiness fell asleep during the reading, as did once Vespasian. Seeing this, Bronzebeard threw a cup at the boy and severely wounded him. Popiah fainted. All heard Caesar exclaim, I have had enough of this brood, and thou knowest that means the same as death. God's punishment was hanging over the Augusta, said Vinicius, but why dost thou tell me this? I tell thee, because the wrath of Popiah is ever pursuing thee and Ligia, but now, occupied by her own woes, she may discontinue her vengeance and be more readily influenced. I shall see her this evening and speak to her. Thanks to thee, thou hast brought me good news. Now bathe and rest, thy lips are blue and only a shadow of thee remains. But Vinicius asked, was it announced when the first morning games would take place? In ten days, but they will empty other prisons first, the more time we can gain, the better. All is not yet lost. But he did not believe in his own words. He well knew that Caesar's high-sounding reply to Allotaurus, when he compared himself to Brutus, had closed all hope of rescue for Ligia. He compassionately held back what he had heard at Cinesios, that Caesar and Tijalinas had resolved to select for themselves and friends the most beautiful Christian matins and dishonor them before the torture. The others were to be given on the day of the games to the Praetorians and the keepers of the animals. Believing that Vinicius would not survive Ligia, he purposely strengthened the hope in his heart. For first, he sympathized with him deeply, and secondly, he desired that if Vinicius must die, he should die beautiful and not with a face emaciated and darkened by pain and sleeplessness. Today I will speak to Augusta, he said, somewhat like this, save Ligia for Vinicius, and I will save Rufius for thee. I will truly think up some plan. One word spoken at the right moment to Bronzebeard may save or destroy any one. At the worst we shall gain time. Thanks to thee, repeated Vinicius. Thou wilt thank me best when thou hast eaten and rested, by Athena or Vinicius in his greatest misfortunes took thought about sleep and food. Thou must have spent the whole night in prison. No, answered Vinicius, I desired to visit the prison a moment ago, but I was met by an order to admit nobody. Inform thyself, dear Patronius, if the decree is only for today or till the day of the games. I will learn this evening, and tomorrow morning I will tell thee, and for how long the order was given. But now, even if the sun-god plunged himself into hell for morning, I must go to sleep. Thus thou follow my example. They separated. Vinicius went to the library and commenced a letter to Ligia. When he had finished, he handed it himself to the Christian Centurion, who bore it at once into the prison. He returned shortly with a greeting from Ligia, and a promise to secure an answer from her that day. Vinicius did not care to return home in the interim. He sat down on a stone, waiting for the letter from Ligia. The sun had risen high in the heavens, and through the Argentarius quarter, as usual, crowds of people streamed into the forum. Hucksters cried their wares, conjurers offered their services to the passers-by, citizens strutted to the rostrum to hear the orators, or to discuss the news of the day. As the heat increased, the crowds of idlers protected themselves under the porticoes of the temples. Underneath them flew flocks of doves, fluttering their wings, their white feathers glistening in the light of the sun and the blue sky. From excess of light, bustle, heat, and weariness, Vinicius's eyes began to close. The monotonous shouts of boys playing street games, and the measured tread of the soldiers lulled him to slumber. Several times he aroused himself and looked at the prison, finally leaning his head against a slab and breathing like a child, drowsy after prolonged weeping, he fell asleep. Dreams came. He imagined that in the middle of the night he was bearing Ligia in his arms through an unknown vineyard, before him walked Pomponia Grisina with a lamp in her hand, a voice like the voice of Petronius called unto him from a distance. Turn back! But he did not notice the call and continued in the wake of Pomponia. At last they reached a cottage. Peter was standing on the threshold. He showed Ligia unto Peter and said, Master, we came from the arena, but we cannot resuscitate her. Wake her, thou! Peter answered, Christ himself will come to awaken her. Then the visions grew confused. He saw Nero and Papia holding in their hands the little Rufius. The boy's head was bleeding. Petronius was washing it and Tijellinus was sprinkling ashes over the tables laden with costly dishes. Vitelius was devouring these dishes. A multitude of Augustalis were sitting at the feast. He himself was resting near Ligia, but between the tables walked lions whose yellow jaws dripped blood. Ligia begged him to take her out, but such a terrible faintness had overcome him that he was unable to move. Then in his vision he perceived greater disorder, and finally everything fell into complete darkness. Out of his deep sleep he was aroused by the heat of the sun and by shouts which proceeded from near the place where he was sitting. Venicius rubbed his eyes. The street was swarming with people. Two runners in yellow tunics pushed aside the crowd with long canes, shouting and making room for a magnificent litter which was carried by four powerful Egyptian slaves. In the litter sat a man dressed in white robes whose face could not be well seen, for near his eyes he held a papyrus roll in whose perusal he was deeply engaged. Make way for the noble Augustali! shouted the runners. The street was so crowded that the litter halted for a moment. Then the Augustali put down his roll of papyrus and stretched out his hand crying, Drive away those rogues! Make haste! Suddenly he aspired Venicius. He drew back his head and raised the papyrus quickly to his eyes. Venicius shaded his forehead with his hand, thinking that he was still dreaming. In the litter sat Kylo. Meanwhile the runners had opened away. The Egyptians were about to run forward, but suddenly the young tribune, who in one moment guessed many things which until then had been incomprehensible, approached the litter. A greeting to thee, oh Kylo, he said. Young man! answered the Greek with pride and haughtiness, striving to give his face an appearance of calmness which he felt not within his soul. A greeting to thee, but do not detain me, for I am speeding to my friend, the noble Tijelenus. Venicius grasping the edge of the litter bent towards him and looking straight in his eyes inquired, Didst thou betray Lygia? Colossus of Memnon! cried Kylo affrighted. But in the eyes of Venicius there was no threat, so the terror of the old Greek quickly disappeared. He remembered that he was under the protection of Tijelenus and Caesar himself, a protection before which all must tremble, that he was surrounded by stalwart slaves, and that Venicius stood before him unarmed, his face emaciated, his form bowed by pain. At this thought his insolence returned. He fixed his red-litted eyes upon Venicius and whispered, And thou, when I was dying of hunger, didst command me to be flogged. Both remained silent for a moment. Then in a dull voice Venicius said, I wronged thee, Kylo. The Greek raised his head and, snapping his fingers, which in Rome was a sign of contempt, said in a loud voice so that everybody could hear him, Friend, if thou hast a petition to make, come to my home on the equiline early in the morning, when after my bath I received guests and clients. And he waved his hand. At that sign the Egyptians who carried the litter, slaves in yellow tunics brandished their staffs and shouted, Make way for the litter of the noble Kylo-Kylonides, make way, way! End of Part 3, Chapter 11. Part 3, Chapter 12 of Quovadis, a tale of the time of Nero. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Quovadis by Henrik Zinkevich, translated by Benyon and Milevsky. Part 3, Chapter 12. Lygia, in a long but hasty letter, took an eternal farewell of Venisius. It was known to her that nobody was allowed to enter the prison, and that she could only see him from the arena. Therefore she begged him to find out when their turn would come, and to be present at the games, for she wished to see him once more in life. There was no sign of fear in her letter. She had written that she and others yearned already for the arena, where they would find freedom from imprisonment. She hoped for the coming of Pomponia and Aulus. She begged that they too be present. Every word of hers showed the ecstatic contempt of life in which all the imprisoned lived, and at that same time an unshaken faith that the promises must be fulfilled beyond the grave. Whether Christ, she wrote, Free me now or after death, he hath promised me to thee by the mouth of the apostle, therefore I am thine. She implored him not to grieve for her, and not to permit himself to be afflicted. She did not regard death as a disillusion of marriage. With a child's truthfulness she assured Venisius that after the torture in the arena she would tell Christ that her betrothed Marcus remained behind in Rome, that he yearned for her with his whole heart. She thought that Christ would permit her soul to return for a while, to assure him that she was living, that she did not remember the torture, and that she was happy. Her whole letter breathed happiness and intense hope. There was only one petition connected with earthly affairs, that Venisius should remove her body from the amphitheater and bury it as his own wife in the same tomb where he himself would eventually rest. He read this letter with a perturbed spirit. At the same time it appeared to him impossible that Ligia should perish by the claws of wild beasts and that Christ would not have compassion upon her. In that belief were hidden hope and trust. When he returned home he wrote her an answer. He promised to come every day behind the walls of the prison and wait there and see if Christ would not crush the walls and give her to him. He commanded her to believe that he could deliver her to him even from the circus. The great apostle had confirmed him in that faith and the moment of delivery was at hand. The converted Centurion was to carry her this letter on the morrow. When Venisius went next morning to the prison the Centurion left the ranks, approached him, and said, Listen to me, master, Christ who enlightened thee hath shown thee his favor. Last night Caesar's freedmen and those of the prefect came to select the Christian maidens for dishonor. They asked for thy betrothed, but our Lord sent her a fever from which prisoners often die, and they left her. Yesterday evening she was unconscious, and blessed be the name of the Redeemer, for the same sickness which saved her from dishonor may also save her from death. Venisius leaned heavily on the soldier's shoulder so that he might not fall. The other continued, Thank the mercy of God they have taken and tortured Linus, but seeing that he was in the last agonies they have given him back to his own. Per chance they will now return her to thee, and Christ will heal her. The young tribune stood for a while with drooping head, then he raised it and said in a whisper, Tis so Centurion Christ who saved her from dishonor will also save her from death. He sat at the wall of the prison until evening, then he returned home to send his people for Linus and bring him to one of his suburban villas. When Petronius had heard everything he also determined to act. First he called on Popaea, at the second visit he found her at the bed of Little Rufius, the child his head badly bruised was suffering from fever. With anguish and despair in her heart his mother had tried all means to save him, yet she feared that if she did save him it would be only for a more dreadful death. Occupied entirely with her own pain she did not even wish to hear of Venisius and Ligia, but Petronius terrified her. Thou hast offended, he said to her, a new and unknown divinity. It seems that thou Augusta art a worshipper of the Hebrew Jehovah, but the Christians maintain that Christ is his son. Think then if the anger of the Father is not pursuing thee. Who knows but it is their vengeance which met thee. Who knows but that the life of Rufius depends on this. How wilt thou act? What does thou want me to do? Asked the terrified Popaea, appeased the offended deities. How? Ligia is sick. Seek to influence Caesar or Tijellinas to give her back to Venisius. And she cried out in her despair. Think is thou that I am able to do this? Thou can't do something else. When Ligia recovers she must meet her doom. Go to the temple of Vesta and command that the headvastal be near the mammotine at the moment when the prisoners are led to death and that she come and that the maiden be freed. The headvastal will not refuse thee. But if Ligia dies of the fever the Christians say that Christ is vengeful but just, perchance thou will propitiate him by thy wish alone. Let him give me some sign that Rufius will be healed. Petronius shrugged his shoulders. I come not as his envoy or divinity. I only say this to thee. Better be on good terms with all the gods, Roman as well as foreign. I will go, said Popaea with a broken voice. Petronius breathed deeply. At last I have succeeded in something, he thought, and returning to Venisius he said, Ask thy God that Ligia die not of the fever. For if she does not die the chief vestal will order her freedom. The Augusta herself will ask her to do it. Venisius looking at him with fever bright eyes replied, Christ will save her. Popaea, who was ready to burn hecatons to all the gods for the recovery of Rufius, went that same evening through the forum to the vestals, leaving the patient in the care of her faithful nurse Sylvia, by whom she herself had been reared. But on the Palatine the sentence had already been issued. Scarcely had the litter of Popaea disappeared behind the great gate, when two of Caesar's freedmen entered the room where little Rufius rested. One of them threw himself on old Sylvia and gagged her, the other, seizing a bronze statuette of the Sphinx, stunned her with a single blow. Then they approached Rufius, who, insensible from fever, knew not what was going on around him. He smiled to them and winked his beautiful eyes as though trying to recognize them. But they, taking the girdle from the nurse, put it around his neck and began to strangle him. The child cried once for his mother and died easily. Then they wrapped him in a sheet, mounting horses that awaited, they hastened as far as Ostia, where they threw the body into the sea. Popaea, not finding the head virgin, who was with the other vestals at the house of Vatenius, soon returned to the Palatine. She found the bed empty and beside it the cold body of Sylvia. She fainted, and when they restored her she fell to sobbing, and her wild cries were heard during all that night and the following day. But on the third day Caesar commanded her to appear at a feast. She arrayed herself in an amethyst-colored tunic, and came and sat stony-faced, golden-haired, silent, wonderful, ill-omend as the Angel of Death.