Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero by Henryk Sienkiewicz (good novels to read .TXT) 📗

“We will go when the games are over,” replied Nero. “I know that even now some call the Christians innoxia corpora. If I were to go, all would repeat this. What dost thou fear?”

Then he frowned, but looked with inquiring glance at Chilo, as if expecting an answer, for he only feigned cool blood. At the last exhibition he himself feared the words of Crispus; and when he had returned to the Palatine, he could not sleep from rage and shame, but also from fear.

Then Vestinius, who heard their conversation in silence, looked around, and said in a mysterious voice,—

“Listen, lord, to this old man. There is something strange in those Christians. Their deity gives them an easy death, but he may be vengeful.”

“It was not I who arranged the games, but Tigellinus,” replied Nero, quickly.

“True! it was I,” added Tigellinus, who heard Cæsar’s answer, “and I jeer at all Christian gods. Vestinius is a bladder full of prejudices, and this valiant Greek is ready to die of terror at sight of a hen with feathers up in defence of her chickens.”

“True!” said Nero; “but henceforth give command to cut the tongues out of Christians and stop their mouths.”

“Fire will stop them, O divinity.”

“Woe is me!” groaned Chilo.

But Cæsar, to whom the insolent confidence of Tigellinus gave courage, began to laugh, and said, pointing to the old Greek,—

“See how the descendant of Achilles looks!”

Indeed Chilo looked terribly. The remnant of hair on his head had grown white; on his face was fixed an expression of some immense dread, alarm, and oppression. He seemed at times, too, as if stunned and only half conscious. Often he gave no answer to questions; then again he fell into anger, and became so insolent that the Augustians preferred not to attack him. Such a moment had come to him then.

“Do what ye like with me, but I will not go to the games!” cried he, in desperation.

Nero looked at him for a while, and, turning to Tigellinus, said,—

“Have a care that this Stoic is near me in the gardens. I want to see what impression our torches will make on him.”

Chilo was afraid of the threat which quivered in Cæsar’s voice. “O lord,” said he, “I shall see nothing, for I cannot see in the night-time.”

“The night will be as bright as day,” replied Cæsar, with a threatening laugh.

Turning then to the Augustians, Nero talked about races which he intended to have when the games were over.

Petronius approached Chilo, and asked, pushing him on the shoulder,—

“Have I not said that thou wouldst not hold out?”

“I wish to drink,” said Chilo, stretching his trembling hand toward a goblet of wine; but he was unable to raise it to his lips. Seeing this, Vestinius took the vessel; but later he drew near, and inquired with curious and frightened face,—

“Are the Furies pursuing thee?”

The old man looked at him a certain time with open lips, as if not understanding what he said. But Vestinius repeated,

“Are the Furies pursuing thee?”

“No,” answered Chilo; “but night is before me.”

“How, night? May the gods have mercy on thee. How night?”

“Night, ghastly and impenetrable, in which something is moving, something coming toward me; but I know not what it is, and I am terrified.”

“I have always been sure that there are witches. Dost thou not dream of something?”

“No, for I do not sleep. I did not think that they would be punished thus.”

“Art thou sorry for them?”

“Why do ye shed so much blood? Hast heard what that one said from the cross? Woe to us!”

“I heard,” answered Vestinius, in a low voice. “But they are incendiaries.”

“Not true!”

“And enemies of the human race.”

“Not true!”

“And poisoners of water.”

“Not true!”

“And murderers of children.”

“Not true!”

“How?” inquired Vestinius, with astonishment. “Thou hast said so thyself, and given them into the hands of Tigellinus.”

“Therefore night has surrounded me, and death is coming toward me. At times it seems to me that I am dead already, and ye also.”

“No! it is they who are dying; we are alive. But tell me, what do they see when they are dying?”

“Christ.”

“That is their god. Is he a mighty god?”

But Chilo answered with a question,—

“What kind of torches are to burn in the gardens? Hast thou heard what Cæsar said?”

“I heard, and I know. Those torches are called Sarmentitii and Semaxii. They are made by arraying men in painful tunics, steeped in pitch, and binding them to pillars, to which fire is set afterward. May their god not send misfortune on the city. Semaxii! that is a dreadful punishment!”

“I would rather see it, for there will not be blood,” answered Chilo. “Command a slave to hold the goblet to my mouth. I wish to drink, but I spill the wine; my hand trembles from age.”

Others also were speaking of the Christians. Old Domitius Afer reviled them.

“There is such a multitude of them,” said he, “that they might raise a civil war; and, remember, there were fears lest they might arm. But they die like sheep.”

“Let them try to die otherwise!” said Tigellinus.

To this Petronius answered, “Ye deceive yourselves. They are arming.”

“With what?”

“With patience.”

“That is a new kind of weapon.”

“True. But can ye say that they die like common criminals? No! They die as if the criminals were those who condemned them to death,—that is, we and the whole Roman people.”

“What raving!” said Tigellinus.

“Hic Abdera!” answered Petronius.

[A proverbial expression meaning