Quo Vadis - Henryk Sienkiewicz (read after .TXT) 📗

“Yes, lord, a command of Caesar. In the prison there are many sick, and perhaps it is feared that visitors might spread infection through the city.”

“But hast thou said that the order was for today only?”

“The guards change at noon.”

Vinicius was silent and uncovered his head, for it seemed to him that the pileolus which he wore was of lead.

Meanwhile the soldier approached him, and said in a low voice⁠—

“Be at rest, lord, the guard and Ursus are watching over her.” When he had said this, he bent and, in the twinkle of an eye, drew with his long Gallic sword on the flag stone the form of a fish.

Vinicius looked at him quickly.

“And thou art a pretorian?”

“Till I shall be there,” answered the soldier, pointing to the prison.

“And I, too, worship Christ.”

“May His name be praised! I know, lord, I cannot admit thee to the prison, but write a letter, I will give it to the guard.”

“Thanks to thee, brother.”

He pressed the soldier’s hand, and went away. The pileolus ceased to weigh like lead. The morning sun rose over the walls of the prison, and with its brightness consolation began to enter his heart again. That Christian soldier was for him a new witness of the power of Christ. After a while he halted, and, fixing his glance on the rosy clouds above the Capitol and the temple of Jupiter Stator, he said⁠—

“I have not seen her today, O Lord, but I believe in Thy mercy.”

At the house he found Petronius, who, making day out of night as usual, had returned not long before. He had succeeded, however, in taking his bath and anointing himself for sleep.

“I have news for thee,” said he. “Today I was with Tullius Senecio, whom Caesar also visited. I know not whence it came to the mind of the Augusta to bring little Rufius with her⁠—perhaps to soften the heart of Caesar by his beauty. Unfortunately, the child, wearied by drowsiness, fell asleep during the reading, as Vespasian did once; seeing this, Ahenobarbus hurled a goblet at his stepson, and wounded him seriously. Poppaea fainted; all heard how Caesar said, ‘I have enough of this brood!’ and that, knowest thou, means as much as death.”

“The punishment of God was hanging over the Augusta,” answered Vinicius; “but why dost thou tell me this?”

“I tell thee because the anger of Poppaea pursued thee and Lygia; occupied now by her own misfortune, she may leave her vengeance and be more easily influenced. I will see her this evening and talk with her.”

“Thanks to thee. Thou givest me good news.”

“But do thou bathe and rest. Thy lips are blue, and there is not a shadow of thee left.”

“Is not the time of the first ludus matutinus announced?” inquired Vinicius.

“In ten days. But they will take other prisons first. The more time that remains to us the better. All is not lost yet.”

But he did not believe this; for he knew perfectly that since to the request of Aliturus, Caesar had found the splendidly sounding answer in which he compared himself to Brutus, there was no rescue for Lygia. He hid also, through pity, what he had heard at Senecio’s, that Caesar and Tigellinus had decided to select for themselves and their friends the most beautiful Christian maidens, and defile them before the torture; the others were to be given, on the day of the games, to pretorians and beast-keepers.

Knowing that Vinicius would not survive Lygia in any case, he strengthened hope in his heart designedly, first, through sympathy for him; and second, because he wished that if Vinicius had to die, he should die beautiful⁠—not with a face deformed and black from pain and watching.

“Today I will speak more or less thus to Augusta,” said he: “ ‘Save Lygia for Vinicius, I will save Rufius for thee.’ And I will think of that seriously.

“One word spoken to Ahenobarbus at the right moment may save or ruin anyone. In the worst case, we will gain time.”

“Thanks to thee,” repeated Vinicius.

“Thou wilt thank me best if thou eat and sleep. By Athene! In the greatest straits Odysseus had sleep and food in mind. Thou hast spent the whole night in prison, of course?”

“No,” answered Vinicius; “I wished to visit the prison today, but there is an order to admit no one. Learn, O Petronius, if the order is for today alone or till the day of the games.”

“I will discover this evening, and tomorrow morning will tell thee for what time and why the order was issued. But now, even were Helios to go to Cimmerian regions from sorrow, I shall sleep, and do thou follow my example.”

They separated; but Vinicius went to the library and wrote a letter to Lygia. When he had finished, he took it himself to the Christian centurion who carried it at once to the prison. After a while he returned with a greeting from Lygia, and promised to deliver her answer that day.

Vinicius did not wish to return home, but sat on a stone and waited for Lygia’s letter. The sun had risen high in the heavens, and crowds of people flowed in, as usual, through the Clivus Argentarius to the Forum. Hucksters called out their wares, soothsayers offered their services to passersby, citizens walked with deliberate steps toward the rostra to hear orators of the day, or tell the latest news to one another. As the heat increased, crowds of idlers betook themselves to the porticos of the temples, from under which flew from moment to moment, with great rustle of wings, flocks of doves, whose white feathers glistened in the sunlight and in the blue of the sky.

From excess of light and the influence of bustle, heat, and great weariness, the eyes of Vinicius began to close. The monotonous calls of boys playing morra, and the measured tread of soldiers, lulled him to sleep. He raised his head still a number of times, and took in the