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

she will either die her own death, or I shall wrest her from you as from the jaws of dogs, and wrest her in such fashion that ye shall not know it; and as often afterward as I look at you I shall think, These are the fools whom Caius Petronius outwitted.”

And, self-satisfied, he passed to the triclinium, where he sat down to supper with Eunice. During the meal a lector read to them the Idyls of Theocritus. Out of doors the wind brought clouds from the direction of Soracte, and a sudden storm broke the silence of the calm summer night. From time to time thunder reverberated on the seven hills, while they, reclining near each other at the table, listened to the bucolic poet, who in the singing Doric dialect celebrated the loves of shepherds. Later on, with minds at rest, they prepared for sweet slumber.

But before this Vinicius returned. Petronius heard of his coming, and went to meet him.

“Well? Have ye fixed anything new?” inquired he. “Has Nazarius gone to the prison?”

“He has,” answered the young man, arranging his hair, wet from the rain. “Nazarius went to arrange with the guards, and I have seen Peter, who commanded me to pray and believe.”

“That is well. If all goes favorably, we can bear her away to-morrow night.”

“My manager must be here at daybreak with men.”

“The road is a short one. Now go to rest.”

But Vinicius knelt in his cubiculum and prayed.

At sunrise Niger, the manager, arrived from Corioli, bringing with him, at the order of Vinicius, mules, a litter, and four trusty men selected among slaves from Britain, whom, to save appearances, he had left at an inn in the Subura. Vinicius, who had watched all night, went to meet him. Niger, moved at sight of his youthful master, kissed his hands and eyes, saying,—

“My dear, thou art ill, or else suffering has sucked the blood from thy face, for hardly did I know thee at first.”

Vinicius took him to the interior colonnade, and there admitted him to the secret. Niger listened with fixed attention, and on his dry, sunburnt face great emotion was evident; this he did not even try to master.

“Then she is a Christian?” exclaimed Niger; and he looked inquiringly into the face of Vinicius, who divined evidently what the gaze of the countryman was asking, since he answered,—

“I too am a Christian.”

Tears glistened in Niger’s eyes that moment. He was silent for a while; then, raising his hands, he said,—

“I thank Thee, O Christ, for having taken the beam from eyes which are the dearest on earth to me.”

Then he embraced the head of Vinicius, and, weeping from happiness, fell to kissing his forehead. A moment later, Petronius appeared, bringing Nazarius.

“Good news!” cried he, while still at a distance.

Indeed, the news was good. First, Glaucus the physician guaranteed Lygia’s life, though she had the same prison fever of which, in the Tullianum and other dungeons, hundreds of people were dying daily. As to the guards and the man who tried corpses with red-hot iron, there was not the least difficulty. Attys, the assistant, was satisfied also.

“We made openings in the coffin to let the sick woman breathe,” said Nazarius. “The only danger is that she may groan or speak as we pass the pretorians. But she is very weak, and is lying with closed eyes since early morning. Besides, Glaucus will give her a sleeping draught prepared by himself from drugs brought by me purposely from the city. The cover will not be nailed to the coffin; ye will raise it easily and take the patient to the litter. We will place in the coffin a long bag of sand, which ye will provide.”

Vinicius, while hearing these words, was as pale as linen; but he listened with such attention that he seemed to divine at a glance what Nazarius had to say.

“Will they carry out other bodies from the prison?” inquired Petronius.

“About twenty died last night, and before evening more will be dead,” said the youth. “We must go with a whole company, but we will delay and drop into the rear. At the first corner my comrade will get lame purposely. In that way we shall remain behind the others considerably. Ye will wait for us at the small temple of Libitina. May God give a night as dark as possible!”

“He will,” said Niger. “Last evening was bright, and then a sudden storm came. To-day the sky is clear, but since morning it is sultry. Every night now there will be wind and rain.”

“Will ye go without torches?” inquired Vinicius.

“The torches are carried only in advance. In every event, be near the temple of Libitina at dark, though usually we carry out the corpses only just before midnight.”

They stopped. Nothing was to be heard save the hurried breathing of Vinicius. Petronius turned to him,—

“I said yesterday that it would be best were we both to stay at home, but now I see that I could not stay. Were it a question of flight, there would be need of the greatest caution; but since she will be borne out as a corpse, it seems that not the least suspicion will enter the head of any one.”

“True, true!” answered Vinicius. “I must be there. I will take her from the coffin myself.”

“Once she is in my house at Corioli, I answer for her,” said Niger. Conversation stopped here. Niger returned to his men at the inn. Nazarius took a purse of gold under his tunic and went to the prison. For Vinicius began a day filled with alarm, excitement, disquiet, and hope.

“The undertaking ought to succeed, for it is well planned,” said Petronius. “It was impossible to plan better. Thou must feign suffering, and wear a dark toga. Do not desert the amphitheatre. Let people see thee. All is so fixed that there cannot be failure. But—art thou perfectly sure of thy manager?”

“He is a Christian,” replied Vinicius.

Petronius looked at him with amazement, then shrugged his shoulders, and said, as if in soliloquy,—

“By Pollux! how it spreads, and commands people’s souls. Under such terror as the present, men would renounce straightway all the gods of Rome, Greece, and Egypt. Still, this is wonderful! By Pollux! if I believed that anything depended on our gods, I would sacrifice six white bullocks to each of them, and twelve to Capitoline Jove. Spare no promises to thy Christ.”

“I have given Him my soul,” said Vinicius.

And they parted. Petronius returned to his cubiculum; but Vinicius went to look from a distance at the prison, and thence betook himself to the slope of the Vatican hill,—to that hut of the quarryman where he had received baptism from the hands of the Apostle. It seemed to him that