Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero by Henryk Sienkiewicz (nonfiction book recommendations .txt) 📕

The litter stopped before the arbiter’s door, which was opened that instant by the watchful keeper.

“Has the noble Vinicius returned?” inquired Petronius.

“Yes, lord, a moment ago,” replied the slave.

“He has not rescued her,” thought Petronius. And casting aside his toga, he ran into the atrium. Vinicius was sitting on a stool; his head bent almost to his knees with his hands on his head; but at the sound of steps he raised his stony face, in which the eyes alone had a feverish brightness.

“Thou wert late?” asked Petronius.

“Yes; they seized her before midday.”

A moment of silence followed.

“Hast thou seen her?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“In the Mamertine prison.”

Petronius trembled and looked at Vinicius with an inquiring glance. The latter understood.

“No,” said he. “She was not thrust down to the Tullianum [The lowest part of the prison, lying entirely underground, with a single opening in the ceiling. Jugurtha died there of hunger.] nor even to the middle prison. I paid the guard to give her his own room. Ursus took his place at the threshold and is guarding her.”

“Why did Ursus not defend her?”

“They sent fifty pretorians, and Linus forbade him.”

“But Linus?”

“Linus is dying; therefore they did not seize him.”

“What is thy intention?”

“To save her or die with her. I too believe in Christ.”

Vinicius spoke with apparent calmness; but there was such despair in his voice that the heart of Petronius quivered from pure pity.

“I understand thee,” said he; “but how dost thou think to save her?”

“I paid the guards highly, first to shield her from indignity, and second not to hinder her flight.”

“When can that happen?”

“They answered that they could not give her to me at once, as they feared responsibility. When the prison will be filled with a multitude of people, and when the tally of prisoners is confused, they will deliver her. But that is a desperate thing! Do thou save her, and me first! Thou art a friend of Cæsar. He himself gave her to me. Go to him and save me!”

Petronius, instead of answering, called a slave, and, commanding him to bring two dark mantles and two swords, turned to Vinicius,

“On the way I will tell thee,” said he. “Meanwhile take the mantle and weapon, and we will go to the prison. There give the guards a hundred thousand sestertia; give them twice and five times more, if they will free Lygia at once. Otherwise it will be too late.”

“Let us go,” said Vinicius.

After a while both were on the street.

“Now listen to me,” said Petronius. “I did not wish to lose time. I am in disfavor, beginning with to-day. My own life is hanging on a hair; hence I can do nothing with Cæsar. Worse than that, I am sure that he would act in opposition to my request. If that were not the case, would I advise thee to flee with Lygia or to rescue her? Besides, if thou escape, Cæsar’s wrath will turn on me. To-day he would rather do something at thy request than at mine. Do not count on that, however. Get her out of the prison, and flee! Nothing else is left. If that does not succeed, there will be time for other methods. Meanwhile know that Lygia is in prison, not alone for belief in Christ; Poppæa’s anger is pursuing her and thee. Thou hast offended the Augusta by rejecting her, dost remember? She knows that she was rejected for Lygia, whom she hated from the first cast of the eye. Nay, she tried to destroy Lygia before by ascribing the death of her own infant to her witchcraft. The hand of Poppæa is in this. How explain that Lygia was the first to be imprisoned? Who could point out the house of Linus? But I tell thee that she has been followed this long time. I know that I wring thy soul, and take the remnant of thy hope from thee, but I tell thee this purposely, for the reason that if thou free her not before they come at the idea that thou wilt try, ye are both lost.”

“Yes; I understand!” muttered Vinicius.

The streets were empty because of the late hour. Their further conversation was interrupted, however, by a drunken gladiator who came toward them. He reeled against Petronius, put one hand on his shoulder, covering his face with a breath filled with wine, and shouted in a hoarse voice,—

“To the lions with Christians!”

“Mirmillon,” answered Petronius, quietly, “listen to good counsel; go thy way.”

With his other hand the drunken man seized him by the arm,—

“Shout with me, or I’ll break thy neck: Christians to the lions!” But the arbiter’s nerves had had enough of those shouts. From the time that he had left the Palatine they had been stifling him like a nightmare, and rending his ears. So when he saw the fist of the giant above him, the measure of his patience was exceeded.

“Friend,” said he, “thou hint the smell of wine, and art stopping my way.”

Thus speaking, he drove into the man’s breast to the hilt the short sword which he had brought from home; then, taking the arm of Vinicius, he continued as if nothing had happened,—

“Cæsar said to-day, ‘Tell Vinicius from me to be at the games in which Christians will appear.’ Dost understand what that means? They wish to make a spectacle of thy pain. That is a settled affair. Perhaps that is why thou and I are not imprisoned yet. If thou art not able to get her at once—I do not know—Acte might take thy part; but can she effect anything? Thy Sicilian lands, too, might tempt Tigellinus. Make the trial.”

“I will give him all that I have,” answered Vinicius.

From the Carinæ to the Forum was not very far; hence they arrived soon. The night had begun to pale, and the walls of the castle came out definitely from the shadow.

Suddenly, as they turned toward the Mamertine prison, Petronius stopped, and said,

“Pretorians! Too late!”

In fact the prison was surrounded by a double rank of soldiers. The morning dawn was silvering their helmets and the points of their javelins.

Vinicius grew as pale as marble. “Let us go on,” said he.

After a while they halted before the line. Gifted with an uncommon memory,