CHAPTER XVII
"Be thou faithful unto death."--REVELATIONS II. 10.
Up in the gorgeously draped tribune, beneath the striped awning, theEmperor Caligula watched the arrival of his pet panther with a grin ofdelight upon his face. He rubbed his hands together in obvious glee, andanon pointed out the beauty of the ferocious creature to the Augusta DeaFlavia, who coldly nodded in response.
She had sat beside the Caesar all through the long, weary morning, givingbut few signs of life. Many there were who thought that, overcome withdrowsiness owing to the heat, she had fallen asleep with her head buriedin the fragrant depths of the lilies which she held.
Certain it is that throughout the spectacle she had kept her eyesclosed, and when death-cries filled the air with their terrible echo,she had once or twice put her small hands to her ears.
Whenever she had done that the Caesar had laughed, and apparently madejest of her with the other Augustas who, in their turn, appeared greatlyamused.
The spectacle indeed had been somewhat tame, and but for the human chaseof a while ago, would have been intolerably dull. There was surelynothing in the death of a few miserable slaves to upset the nerves of aRoman princess. As for the gladiators! well! they were trained and wellpaid to die.
Not far from the Caesar's person, and leaning against the wall of thetribune in his wonted attitude, the praefect of Rome had also stoodsilently by. The Emperor had ordered his presence, nor could thepraefect of the city be absent when the sacred person of the Caesar wasabroad amongst his people.
But no one could say whether the Anglicanus had seen or heard anythingof what went on around him. His eyes of a truth were wide open, but theydid not gaze down upon the arena; they were hidden by that dark frownupon his brow, and no one could guess whereon was his ardent gaze soresolutely fixed, no one could guess that from where he stood TaurusAntinor could perceive the outline of a delicate profile, with thesoftly rounded cheek, and a tiny shell-like ear half hidden by the filmyveil of curls.
He could see the lids with their fringe of golden lashes fall wearilyover the eyes, he could trace the shudder of horror which shook theslender figure from time to time.
Once the lilies dropped from Dea Flavia's hand, and the soft swishingsound which they made in falling caused her to wake as from a reverie.She looked all round her with wide-open eyes, and her glance suddenlyencountered those of the praefect of Rome. It seemed to him that hervery soul was in her eyes then, a soul which at that moment appearedfull of horror at all that she had seen.
But as quickly as she had thus involuntarily revealed her soul, so didshe conceal it again beneath her favoured veil of unbendable pride. Shefrowned on him as if angered that he should have surprised a secret, andalmost it seemed then that she flashed on him a look of hatred andcontempt.
After that she turned away, and with her foot kicked away the fallenlilies. She sat now leaning forward, motionless and still, with herelbows buried in an embroidered cushion before her and her chin restingon her hands.
Oh! if he only could, how gladly would he have seized her even now andcarried her away from this nauseating scene of bloodshed and cruelty. Hecrossed his arms over his powerful chest till every muscle seemed tocrack with the effort of self-control. His very soul longed to take heraway, his sinews ached with the desire to seize her and to bear her inhis arms away, away beyond the cruel encircling walls of Rome, away fromher marble palaces and temple-crowned hills, away over the marshes ofthe Campania and the belt of the blue sea beyond to that far-off land ofGalilee where he himself had found happiness and peace.
The Caesar had commanded his presence here to-day, and he had comebecause the Caesar had commanded. To the last he would render unto Caesarthat which was Caesar's. But he had stood by with eyes that only saw agolden head crowned with diamonds, a delicate oval cheek coloured like apeach and tiny fleecy curls that fluttered softly in the breeze.
There was no longer any sorrow in his heart, no longer any remorse orthought of treachery. The man in the little hut on the Aventine hadshown him the way how to lay down his burden of weakness and of sin.
He knew that he loved Dea Flavia with all the ardour of an untamed heartthat has never before tasted the sweetness of love. He knew that heloved her with all the passion of a soul that at last hath found a mate.But now he knew also that in this love there was no thought of treacheryto Him in Whose service he was prepared to lay down his life. He knewthat never again would the exquisite vision of this fair young paganstand between him and the Cross, but rather that she would point tohim--ignorantly and unconsciously--the way up to Golgotha.
For renunciation awaited him--that also did he know. A few more days inthe service of the Caesar, and his promise to remain in Rome would nolonger bind him, since Caligula had returned from abroad.
The rest of his life was at the bidding of Him Who mutely from the Crosshad demanded his allegiance: a lonely hut somewhere on the Campania, orfurther if God demanded it, a life of strenuous effort to win souls forChrist, and the renunciation of all that had made life easy and pleasanthitherto. God alone knew how easy that would have been to himforty-eight hours ago. Taurus Antinor hated and despised the life ofRome, the tyranny of a demented Caesar, the indolence of the dailyroutine, the ever-recurrent spectacles of hideous, inhuman cruelty.Until that midday hour in the Forum four days ago, he had viewed his newprospective life with a sense of infinite relief.
But now renunciation meant something more. Detachment from Rome and allits pomps, its glories, and its cruelties meant also detachment from thepresence of Dea Flavia. It meant the tearing out of his veryheartstrings which had found root at a woman's feet. It meant thedrawing of an impenetrable veil between life itself and all thathenceforth could alone make life dear.
He had dreamed a dream, the exquisite beauty of which had wrought havocin his innermost soul, but the awakening had come before the gloriousdream had found its complete birth. Jesus of Nazareth had called to himfrom the Cross, but even as He called, the pierced, sacred hand hadpointed to the broad path strewn with gold and roses, filled with thefragrance of lilies and thrilled with the song of mating birds: and thedying voice had gently murmured: "Choose!"
The soldier had chosen and was ready to go. But renunciation was not tobe the easy turning away from a road that was none too dear--it was tobe a sacrifice!--the taking up of the cross and the slow, weary mountingup, up to Calvary, with aching back and sweating brow and the drearytragedy of utter loneliness.
It meant the giving up of every delight of manhood, of happiness in awoman's smile, of rapture in a woman's kiss. It meant the giving up ofevery joy in seeing her pass before him, of hearing the swish of herskirts on the pavement of the city; it meant the giving up of all hopeever to win her, of all thought of a future home, the patter ofchildren's feet, the rocking of a tiny cradle. It meant the sacrifice ofevery thought of happiness and of every desire of body and of soul.
It meant the nailing of a heart to the foot of a cross.
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