“People will understand now why Rome was destroyed,” interrupted Tigellinus.
“Many understand that already, O lord, for I go about in the gardens, I go to the Campus Martius, and teach. But if ye listen to the end, ye will know my reasons for vengeance. Glaucus the physician did not reveal to me at first that their religion taught hatred. On the contrary, he told me that Chrestos was a good divinity, that the basis of their religion was love. My sensitive heart could not resist such a truth; hence I took to loving Glaucus, I trusted him, I shared every morsel of bread with him, every copper coin, and dost thou know, lady, how he repaid me? On the road from Naples to Rome he thrust a knife into my body, and my wife, the beautiful and youthful Berenice, he sold to a slave-merchant. If Sophocles knew my history — but what do I say? One better than Sophocles is listening.”
“Poor man!” said Poppæa.
“Whoso has seen the face of Aphrodite is not poor, lady; and I see it at this moment. But then I sought consolation in philosophy. When I came to Rome, I tried to meet Christian elders to obtain justice against Glaucus. I thought that they would force him to yield up my wife. I became acquainted with their chief priest; I became acquainted with another, named Paul, who was in prison in this city, but was liberated afterward; I became acquainted with the son of Zebedee, with Linus and Clitus and many others. I know where they lived before the fire, I know where they meet. I can point out one excavation in the Vatican Hill and a cemetery beyond the Nomentan Gate, where they celebrate their shameless ceremonies. I saw the Apostle Peter. I saw how Glaucus killed children, so that the Apostle might have something to sprinkle on the heads of those present; and I saw Lygia, the foster-child of Pomponia Græcina, who boasted that though unable to bring the blood of an infant, she brought the death of an infant, for she bewitched the little Augusta, thy daughter, O Cyrus, and thine, O Isis!”
“Dost hear, Cæsar?” asked Poppæa.
“Can that be!” exclaimed Nero.
“I could forgive wrongs done myself,” continued Chilo, “but when I heard of yours, I wanted to stab her. Unfortunately I was stopped by the noble Vinicius, who loves her.”
“Vinicius? But did she not flee from him?”
“She fled, but he made search for her; he could not exist without her. For wretched pay I helped him in the search, and it was I who pointed out to him the house in which she lived among the Christians in the Trans-Tiber. We went there together, and with us thy wrestler Croton, whom the noble Vinicius hired to protect him. But Ursus, Lygia’s slave, crushed Croton. That is a man of dreadful strength, O Lord, who can break a bull’s neck as easily as another might a poppy stalk. Aulus and Pomponia loved him because of that.”
“By Hercules,” said Nero, “the mortal who crushed Croton deserves a statue in the Forum. But, old man, thou art mistaken or art inventing, for Vinicius killed Croton with a knife.”
“That is how people calumniate the gods. O lord, I myself saw Croton’s ribs breaking in the arms of Ursus, who rushed then on Vinicius and would have killed him but for Lygia. Vinicius was ill for a long time after that but they nursed him in the hope that through love he would become a Christian. In fact, he did become a Christian.”
“Vinicius?”
“Yes.”
“And, perhaps, Petronius too?” inquired Tigellinus, hurriedly.
Chilo squirmed, rubbed his hands, and said, —
“I admire thy penetration, O lord. He may have become one! He may very well have become one.”
“Now I understand why he defended the Christians.”
Nero laughed: “Petronius a Christian! Petronius an enemy of life and luxury! Be not foolish; do not ask me to believe that, since I am ready not to believe anything.”
“But the noble Vinicius became a Christian, lord. I swear by that radiance which comes from thee that I speak the truth, and that nothing pierces me with such disgust as lying. Pomponia Græcina is a Christian, little Aulus is a Christian, Lygia is a Christian, and so is Vinicius. I served him faithfully, and in return, at the desire of Glaucus the physician, he gave command to flog me, though I am old and was sick and hungry. And I have sworn by Hades that I will not forget that for him. O lord, avenge my wrongs on them, and I will deliver to thee Peter the Apostle and Linus and Clitus and Glaucus and Crispus, the highest ones, and Lygia and Ursus. I will point out hundreds of them to you, thousands; I will indicate their houses of prayer, the cemeteries, all thy prisons will not hold them! Without me ye could not find them. In misfortunes I have sought consolation; hitherto in philosophy alone, now I will find it in favors that will descend on me. I am old, and have not known life; let me begin.”
“It is thy wish to be a Stoic before a full plate,” said Nero.
“Whoso renders service to thee will fill it by that same.”
“Thou art not mistaken, O philosopher.”
But Poppæa did not forget her enemies. Her fancy for Vinicius was, indeed, rather a momentary whim, which had risen under the influence of jealousy, anger, and wounded vanity. Still the coolness of the young patrician touched her deeply, and filled her heart with a stubborn feeling of offence. This alone, that he had dared to prefer another, seemed to her a crime calling for vengeance. As to Lygia, she hated her from the first moment, when the beauty of that northern lily alarmed her. Petronius, who spoke of the too narrow hips of the girl, might talk what he pleased into Cæsar, but not into the Augusta. Poppæa the critic understood at one cast of the eye that in all Rome Lygia alone could rival and even surpass her. Thenceforth she vowed her ruin.
“Lord,” said she, “avenge our child.”
“Hasten!” cried Chilo, “hasten! Otherwise Vinicius will hide her. I will point out the house to which she returned after the fire.”
“I will give thee ten men, and go this moment,” said Tigellinus.
“O lord! thou hast not seen Croton in the arms of Ursus; if thou wilt give fifty men, I will only show the house from a distance. But if ye will not imprison Vinicius, I am lost.”
Tigellinus looked at Nero. “Would it not be well, O divinity, to finish at once with the uncle and nephew?”
Nero thought a moment and answered, —
“No, not now. People would not believe us if we tried to persuade them that Petronius, Vinicius, or Pomponia Græcina had fired Rome. Their houses were too beautiful. Their turn will come later; to-day other victims are needed.”
“Then, O lord, give me soldiers as a guard,” said Chilo.
“See to this, Tigellinus.”
“Thou wilt lodge meanwhile with me,” said the prefect to Chilo.
Delight beamed from the face of the Greek.
“I will give up all! only hasten! — hasten!” cried he, with a hoarse voice.
Chapter L
ON leaving Cæsar, Petronius had himself borne to his house on the Carinæ, which, being surrounded on three sides by a garden, and having in front the small Cecilian Forum, escaped the fire luckily. For this cause other Augustians, who had lost their houses and in them vast wealth and many works of art, called Petronius fortunate. For years it had been repeated that he was the first-born of Fortune, and Cæsar’s growing friendship in recent times seemed to confirm the correctness of this statement.
But that first-born of Fortune might meditate now on the fickleness of his mother, or rather on her likeness to Chronos, who devoured his own children.
“Were my house burnt,” said he to himself, “and with it my gems, Etruscan vases, Alexandrian glass, and Corinthian bronze, Nero might indeed have forgotten the offence. By Pollux! And to think that it depended on me alone to be pretorian prefect at this moment. I should proclaim Tigellinus the incendiary, which he is really; I should array him in the ‘painful tunic,’ and deliver him to the populace, protect the Christians, rebuild Rome. Who knows even if a better epoch would not begin thus for honest people? I ought to have taken the office, simply out of regard for Vinicius. In case of overwork I could have surrendered command to him, and Nero wo
uld not have even tried to resist. Then let Vinicius baptize all the pretorians, nay, Cæsar himself; what harm could that be to me? Nero pious, Nero virtuous and merciful, — this would be even an amusing spectacle.”
And his carelessness was so great that he began to laugh. But after a time his thoughts turned in another direction. It seemed to him that he was in Antium; that Paul of Tarsus was saying to him, “Ye call us enemies of life, but answer me, Petronius: If Cæsar were a Christian, and acted according to our religion, would not life be safer and more certain?”
And remembering these words, he continued: “By Castor! No matter how many Christians they murder here, Paul will find as many new ones; for he is right, unless the world can rest on scoundrelism. But who knows that this will not be the case soon? I myself, who have learned not a little, did not learn how to be a great enough scoundrel; hence I shall have to open my veins. But in every case it must have ended thus, and if not thus, in some other way. I am sorry for Eunice and my Myrrhene vase; but Eunice is free, and the vase will go with me. Ahenobarbus will not get it, in any event! I am sorry also for Vinicius. But, though I was bored less of late than before, I am ready. In the world things are beautiful; but people are so vile for the greater part that life is not worth a regret. He who knew how to live should know how to die. Though I belong to the Augustians, I was freer than they supposed.” Here he shrugged his shoulders. “They may think that my knees are trembling at this moment, and that terror has raised the hair on my head; but on reaching home, I will take a bath in violet water, my golden-haired herself will anoint me; then after refreshment we will have sung to us that hymn to Apollo composed by Anthemios. I said once to myself that it was not worth while to think of death, for death thinks of us without our assistance. It would be a wonder if there are really Elysian fields, and in them shades of people. Eunice would come in time to me, and we should wander together over asphodel meadows. I should find, too, society better than this. What buffoons, tricksters, a vile herd without taste or polish! Tens of Arbiters Elegantiarum could not transform those Trimalchilons into decent people. By Persephone! I have had enough!”
And he noted with astonishment that something separated him from those people already. He had known them well earlier, and had known what to think of them; still they seemed to him now as farther away and more deserving of contempt than usual. Indeed, he had had enough of them!
But afterward he began to think over his position. Thanks to his acuteness, he knew that destruction was not threatening him directly. Nero had seized an appropriate occasion to utter a few select, lofty phrases about friendship and forgiveness, thus binding himself for the moment. “He will have to seek pretexts, and before he finds them much time may pass. First of all, he will celebrate the games with Christians,” said Petronius to himself; “only then will he think of me, and if that be true, it is not worth while to take trouble or change my course of life. Nearer danger threatens Vinicius!”
And thenceforth he thought only of Vinicius, whom he resolved to rescue. Four sturdy Bithynians bore his litter quickly through ruins, ash-heaps, and stones with which the Carinæ was filled yet; but he commanded them to run swiftly so as to be home at the earliest. Vinicius, whose “insula” had been burned, was living with him, and was at home, fortunately.
“Hast seen Lygia to-day?” were the first words of Petronius.
“I have just come from her.”
“Hear what I tell thee, and lose no time in questions. It has been decided this morning at Cæsar’s to lay the blame of burning Rome on the Christians. Persecutions and tortures threaten them. Pursuit may begin any instant. Take Lygia and flee at once beyond the Alps even, or to Africa. And hasten, for the Palatine is nearer the Trans-Tiber than is this place.”
Vinicius was, indeed, too much of a soldier to lose time in useless queries. He listened with frowning brows, and a face intent and terrible, but fearless. Evidently the first feeling of his nature in presence of peril was a wish to defend and give battle.
“I go,” said he.
“One word more. Take a purse of gold, take weapons, and a handful of thy Christians. In case of need, rescue her!”
Vinicius was in the door of the atrium already.
“Send me news by a slave!” cried Petronius.
When left alone, he began to walk by the columns which adorned the atrium, thinking of what had happened. He knew that Lygia and Linus had returned after the fire to the former house, which, like the greater part of the Trans-Tiber, had been saved; and that was an unfavorable circumstance, for otherwise it would have been difficult to find them among throngs of people. Petronius hoped, however, that as things were, no one in the Palatine knew where they lived, and therefore in every case Vinicius would anticipate the pretorians. It occurred to him also that Tigellinus, wishing to seize at one attempt as many Christians as possible, would extend his net over all Rome. “If they send no more than ten people after her,” thought he, “that giant Lygian will break their bones and what will it be if Vinicius comes with assistance?” Thinking of this he was consoled. True, armed resistance to the pretorians was almost the same as war with Cæsar. Petronius knew also that if Vinicius hid from the vengeance of Nero, that vengeance might fall on himself; but he cared little. On the contrary, he rejoiced at the thought of crossing Nero’s plans and those of Tigellinus, and determined to spare in the matter neither men nor money. Since in Antium Paul of Tarsus had converted most of his slaves, he, while defending Christians, might count on their zeal and devotion.
The entrance of Eunice interrupted his thoughts. At sight of her all his cares and troubles vanished without a trace. He forgot Cæsar, the disfavor into which he had fallen, the degraded Augustians, the persecution threatening the Christians, Vinicius, Lygia, and looked only at her with the eyes of an anthetic man enamoured of marvellous forms, and of a lover for whom love breathes from those forms. She, in a transparent violet robe called “Coa vestis,” through which her maiden-like form appeared, was really as beautiful as a goddess. Feeling herself admired meanwhile, and loving him with all her soul, ever eager for his fondling, she blushed with delight as if she had been an innocent maiden.
“What wilt thou say to me, Charis?” asked Petronius, stretching his hands to her.
She, inclining her golden head to him, answered,— “Anthemios has come with his choristers, and asks if ’tis thy wish to hear him.”
“Let him stay; he will sing to us during dinner the hymn to Apollo. By the groves of Paphos! when I see thee in that Coan gauze, I think that Aphrodite has veiled herself with a piece of the sky, and is standing before me.”
“O lord!”
“Come hither, Eunice, embrace me with thy arms, and give thy lips to me. Dost thou love me?”
“I should not have loved Zeus more.”
Then she pressed her lips to his, while quivering in his arms from happiness. After a while Petronius asked, —
“But if we should have to separate?”
Eunice looked at him with fear in her eyes.
“How is that, lord?”
“Fear not; I ask, for who knows but I may have to set out on a long journey?”
“Take me with thee-”
Petronius changed the conversation quickly, and said, —
“Tell me, are there asphodels on the grass plot in the garden?”
“The cypresses and the grass plots are yellow from the fire, the leaves have fallen from the myrtles, and the whole garden seems dead.”
“All Rome seems dead, and soon it will be a real graveyard. Dost thou know that an edict against the Christians is to be issued, and a persecution will begin during which thousands will perish?”
“Why punish the Christians, lord? They are good and peaceful.”
“For that very reason.”
“Let us go to the sea. Thy beautiful eyes do not like to see blood.”
“Well, but meanwhile I must bathe. Come to the elæothesium to anoint my arms. By the girdle of Kypris! ne
ver hast thou seemed to me so beautiful. I will give command to make a bath for thee in the form of a shell; thou wilt be like a costly pearl in it. Come, Golden-haired!”
He went out, and an hour later both, in garlands of roses and with misty eyes, were resting before a table covered with a service of gold. They were served by boys dressed as Cupids, they drank wine from ivy-wreathed goblets, and heard the hymn to Apollo sung to the sound of harps, under direction of Anthemios. What cared they if around the villa chimneys pointed up from the ruins of houses, and gusts of wind swept the ashes of burnt Rome in every direction? They were happy thinking only of love, which had made their lives like a divine dream. But before the hymn was finished a slave, the chief of the atrium, entered the hall.
“Lord,” said he, in a voice quivering with alarm, “a centurion with a detachment of pretorians is standing before the gate, and, at command of Cæsar, wishes to see thee.”
The song and the sound of lutes ceased. Alarm was roused in all present; for Cæsar, in communications with friends, did not employ pretorians usually, and their arrival at such times foreboded no good. Petronius alone showed not the slightest emotion, but said, like a man annoyed by continual visits, —
“They might let me dine in peace.” Then turning to the chief of the atrium, he said, “Let him enter.”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 467