Quo Vadis - Henryk Sienkiewicz (best ereader under 100 .txt) 📗

THREE days’ rain, an exceptional phenomenon in Rome during summer, and

hail falling in opposition to the natural order, not only in the day,

but even at night, interrupted the spectacles. People were growing

alarmed. A failure of grapes was predicted, and when on a certain

afternoon a thunderbolt melted the bronze statue of Ceres on the

Capitol, sacrifices were ordered in the temple of Jupiter Salvator. The

priests of Ceres spread a report that the anger of the gods was turned

on the city because of the too hasty punishment of Christians; hence

crowds began to insist that the spectacles be given without reference to

weather. Delight seized all Rome when the announcement was made at last

that the ludus would begin again after three days’ interval.

Meanwhile beautiful weather returned. The amphitheatre was filled at

daybreak with thousands of people. Cæsar came early with the vestals

and the court. The spectacle was to begin with a battle among the

Christians, who to this end were arrayed as gladiators and furnished

with all kinds of weapons which served gladiators by profession in

offensive and defensive struggles. But here came disappointment. The

Christians threw nets, darts, tridents, and swords on the arena,

embraced and encouraged one another to endurance in view of torture and

death. At this deep indignation and resentment seized the hearts of the

multitude. Some reproached the Christians with cowardice and

pusillanimity; others asserted that they refused to fight through hatred

of the people, so as to deprive them of that pleasure which the sight of

bravery produces. Finally, at command of Cæsar, real gladiators were

let out, who despatched in one twinkle the kneeling and defenceless

victims.

When these bodies were removed, the spectacle was a series of mythologic

pictures,—Cæsar’s own idea. The audience saw Hercules blazing in

living fire on Mount Oeta. Vinicius had trembled at the thought that

the role of Hercules might be intended for Ursus; but evidently the turn

of Lygia’s faithful servant had not come, for on the pile some other

Christian was burning,—a man quite unknown to Vinicius. In the next

picture Chilo, whom Cæsar would not excuse from attendance, saw

acquaintances. The death of Dædalus was represented, and also that of

Icarus. In the rôle of Dædalus appeared Euricius, that old man who had

given Chilo the sign of the fish; the role of Icarus was taken by his

son, Quartus. Both were raised aloft with cunning machinery, and then

hurled suddenly from an immense height to the arena. Young Quartus fell

so near Cæsar’s podium that he spattered with blood not only the

external ornaments but the purple covering spread over the front of the

podium. Chilo did not see the fall, for he closed his eyes; but he

heard the dull thump of the body, and when after a time he saw blood

there close to him, he came near fainting a second time.

The pictures changed quickly. The shameful torments of maidens violated

before death by gladiators dressed as wild beasts, delighted the hearts

of the rabble. They saw priestesses of Cybele and Ceres, they saw the

Danaides, they saw Dirce and Pasiphaë; finally they saw young girls, not

mature yet, torn asunder by wild horses. Every moment the crowd

applauded new ideas of Nero, who, proud of them, and made happy by

plaudits, did not take the emerald from his eye for one instant while

looking at white bodies torn with iron, and the convulsive quivering of

victims.

Pictures were given also from the history of the city. After the

maidens they saw Mucius Scævola, whose hand fastened over a fire to a

tripod filled the amphitheatre with the odor of burnt flesh; but this

man, like the real Scævola, remained without a groan, his eyes raised

and the murmur of prayer on his blackening lips. When he had expired

and his body was dragged to the spoliarium, the usual midday interlude

followed. Cæsar with the vestals and the Augustians left the

amphitheatre, and withdrew to an immense scarlet tent erected purposely;

in this was prepared for him and the guests a magnificent prandium. The

spectators for the greater part followed his example, and, streaming

out, disposed themselves in picturesque groups around the tent, to rest

their limbs wearied from long sitting, and enjoy the food which, through

Cæsar’s favor, was served by slaves to them. Only the most curious

descended to the arena itself, and, touching with their fingers lumps of

sand held together by blood, conversed, as specialists and amateurs, of

that which had happened and of that which was to follow. Soon even

these went away, lest they might be late for the feast; only those few

were left who stayed not through curiosity, but sympathy for the coming

victims. Those concealed themselves behind seats or in the lower

places.

Meanwhile the arena was levelled, and slaves began to dig holes one near

the other in rows throughout the whole circuit from side to side, so

that the last row was but a few paces distant from Cæsar’s podium. From

outside came the murmur of people, shouts and plaudits, while within

they were preparing in hot haste for new tortures. The cunicula were

opened simultaneously, and in all passages leading to the arena were

urged forward crowds of Christians naked and carrying crosses on their

shoulders. The whole arena was filled with them. Old men, bending

under the weight of wooden beams, ran forward; at the side of these went

men in the prime of life, women with loosened hair behind which they

strove to hide their nakedness, small boys, and little children. The

crosses, for the greater part, as well as the victims, were wreathed

with flowers. The servants of the amphitheatre beat the unfortunates

with clubs, forcing them to lay down their crosses near the holes

prepared, and stand themselves there in rows. Thus were to perish those

whom executioners had had no chance to drive out as food for dogs and

wild beasts the first day of the games. Black slaves seized the

victims, laid them face upward on the wood, and fell to nailing their

hands hurriedly and quickly to the arms of the crosses, so that people

returning after the interlude might find all the crosses standing. The

whole amphitheatre resounded with the noise of hammers which echoed

through all the rows, went out to the space surrounding the

amphitheatre, and into the tent where Cæsar was entertaining his suite

and the vestals. There he drank wine, bantered with Chilo, and

whispered strange words in the ears of the priestesses of Vesta; but on

the arena the work was seething,—nails were going into the hands and

feet of the Christians; shovels moved quickly, filling the holes in

which the crosses had been planted.

Among the new victims whose turn was to come soon was Crispus. The

lions had not had time to rend him; hence he was appointed to the cross.

He, ready at all times for death, was delighted with the thought that

his hour was approaching. He seemed another man, for his emaciated body

was wholly naked,—only a girdle of ivy encircled his hips, on his head

was a garland of roses. But in his eyes gleamed always