Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (ebook reader macos TXT) 📕

assurances, just as if they felt confident that, in case of need, some

superhuman power would defend them. The young tribune, in whose head

the distinction between things possible and impossible had grown

involved and faint since the discourse of the Apostle in Ostrianum, was

also not too far from supposing that that might take place. But

considering things more soberly, he remembered what he had said of the

Greek, and asked again that Chilo be brought to him.

Crispus agreed, and they decided to send Ursus. Vinicius, who in recent

days, before his visit to Ostrianum, had sent slaves frequently to

Chilo, though without result, indicated his lodgings accurately to the

Lygian; then writing a few words on the tablet, he said, turning to

Crispus,—“I give a tablet, for this man is suspicious and cunning.

Frequently when summoned by me, he gave directions to answer my people

that he was not at home; he did so always when he had no good news for

me, and feared my anger.”

“If I find him, I will bring him, willing or unwilling,” said Ursus.

Then, taking his mantle, he went out hurriedly.

To find any one in Rome was not easy, even with the most accurate

directions; but in those cases the instinct of a hunter aided Ursus, and

also his great knowledge of the city. After a certain time, therefore,

he found himself at Chilo’s lodgings.

He did not recognize Chilo, however. He had seen him but once in his

life before, and moreover, in the night. Besides, that lofty and

confident old man who had persuaded him to murder Glaucus was so unlike

the Greek, bent double from terror, that no one could suppose the two to

be one person. Chilo, noticing that Ursus looked at him as a perfect

stranger, recovered from his first fear. The sight of the tablet, with

the writing of Vinicius, calmed him still more. At least the suspicion

that he would take him into an ambush purposely did not trouble him. He

thought, besides, that the Christians had not killed Vinicius, evidently

because they had not dared to raise hands on so noted a person.

“And then Vinicius will protect me in case of need,” thought he; “of

course he does not send to deliver me to death.”

Summoning some courage, therefore, he said: “My good man, has not my

friend the noble Vinicius sent a litter? My feet are swollen; I cannot

walk so far.”

“He has not,” answered Ursus; “we shall go on foot.”

“But if I refuse?”

“Do not, for thou wilt have to go.”

“And I will go, but of my own will. No one could force me, for I am a

free man, and a friend of the prefect of the city. As a sage, I have

also means to overcome others, and I know how to turn people into trees

and wild beasts. But I will go, I will go! I will only put on a mantle

somewhat warmer, and a hood, lest the slaves of that quarter might

recognize me; they would stop me every moment to kiss my hands.”

He put on a new mantle then, and let down a broad Gallic hood, lest

Ursus might recognize his features on coming into clearer light.

“Where wilt thou take me?” asked he on the road.

“To the Trans-Tiber.”

“I am not long in Rome, and I have never been there, but there too, of

course, live men who love virtue.”

But Ursus, who was a simple man, and had heard Vinicius say that the

Greek had been with him in Ostrianum, and had seen him with Croton enter

the house in which Lygia lived, stopped for a moment and said,—“Speak

no untruth, old man, for to-day thou wert with Vinicius in Ostrianum and

under our gate.”

“Ah!” said Chilo, “then is your house in the Trans-Tiber? I have not

been long in Rome, and know not how the different parts are named. That

is true, friend; I was under the gate, and implored Vinicius in the name

of virtue not to enter. I was in Ostrianum, and dost thou know why? I

am working for a certain time over the conversion of Vinicius, and

wished him to hear the chief of the Apostles. May the light penetrate

his soul and thine! But thou art a Christian, and wishest truth to

overcome falsehood.”

“That is true,” answered Ursus, with humility.

Courage returned to Chilo completely.

“Vinicius is a powerful lord,” said he, “and a friend of Cæsar. He

listens often yet to the whisperings of the evil spirit; but if even a

hair should fall from his head, Cæsar would take vengeance on all the

Christians.”

“A higher power is protecting us.”

“Surely, surely! But what do ye intend to do with Vinicius?” inquired

Chilo, with fresh alarm.

“I know not. Christ commands mercy.”

“Thou hast answered excellently. Think of this always, or thou wilt fry

in hell like a sausage in a frying-pan.”

Ursus sighed, and Chilo thought that he could always do what he liked

with that man, who was terrible at the moment of his first outburst.

So, wishing to know what happened at the seizing of Lygia, he asked

further, in the voice of a stern judge,—“How did ye treat Croton?

Speak, and do not prevaricate.”

Ursus sighed a second time. “Vinicius will tell thee.”

“That means that thou didst stab him with a knife, or kill him with a

club.”

“I was without arms.”

The Greek could not resist amazement at the superhuman strength of the

barbarian.

“May Pluto—that is to say, may Christ pardon thee!”

They went on for some time in silence; then Chilo said:

“I will not betray thee; but have a care of the watches.”

“I fear Christ, not the watches.”

“And that is proper. There is no more grievous crime than murder. I

will pray for thee; but I know not if even my prayer can be effective,

unless thou make a vow never to touch any one in life with a finger.”

“As it is, I have not killed purposely,” answered Ursus.

But Chilo, who desired to secure himself in every case, did not cease to

condemn murder, and urge Ursus to make the vow. He inquired also about

Vinicius; but the Lygian answered his inquiries unwillingly, repeating

that from Vinicius himself he would hear what he needed. Speaking in

this way, they passed at last the long road which separated the lodgings

of the Greek from the Trans-Tiber, and found themselves before the

house. Chilo’s heart began to beat again unquietly. From dread it

seemed to him that Ursus was beginning to look at him with a kind of

greedy expression.

“It is small consolation to me,” said he to himself, “if he kills me

unwillingly. I prefer in every case that paralysis should strike him,

and with him all the Lygians,—which do thou effect, O Zeus, if thou art

able.”

Thus meditating, he wrapped himself more closely in his Gallic mantle,

repeating that he feared the cold. Finally, when they had passed the

entrance and the first court, and found themselves in the corridor

leading to the garden of the little house, he halted suddenly and said,

—“Let me draw breath, or I shall not be able to speak with Vinicius and

give him saving advice.”

He halted; for though he said to himself that no danger threatened,

still his legs trembled under him at the thought that he was among those

mysterious people whom he had seen in Ostrianum.

Meanwhile a hymn came to their ears from the little house.

“What is that?” inquired Chilo.

“Thou sayest that thou art a Christian, and knowest not that among us it

is the custom after every meal to glorify our Saviour with singing,”

answered Ursus. “Miriam and her son must have returned, and perhaps the

Apostle is with them, for he visits the widow and Crispus every day.”

“Conduct me directly to Vinicius.”

“Vinicius is in the same room with all, for that is the only large one;

the others are very small chambers, to which we go only to sleep. Come

in; thou wilt rest there.”

They entered. It was rather dark in the room; the evening was cloudy

and cold, the flames of a few candles did not dispel the darkness

altogether. Vinicius divined rather than recognized Chilo in the hooded

man. Chilo, seeing the bed in the corner of the room, and on it

Vinicius, moved toward him directly, not looking at the others, as if

with the conviction that it would be safest near him.

“Oh, lord, why didst thou not listen to my counsels?” exclaimed he,

putting his hands together.

“Silence!” said Vinicius, “and listen!”

Here he looked sharply into Chilo’s eyes, and spoke slowly with

emphasis, as if wishing the Greek to understand every word of his as a

command, and to keep it forever in memory.

“Croton threw himself on me to kill and rob me, dost understand? I

killed him then, and these people dressed the wounds which I received in

the struggle.”

Chilo understood in a moment that if Vinicius spoke in this way it must

be in virtue of some agreement with the Christians, and in that case he

wished people to believe him. He saw this, too, from his face; hence in

one moment, without showing doubt or astonishment, he raised his eyes

and exclaimed,—“That was a faith-breaking ruffian! But I warned thee,

lord, not to trust him; my teachings bounded from his head as do peas

when thrown against a wall. In all Hades there are not torments enough

for him. He who cannot be honest must be a rogue; what is more

difficult than for a rogue to become honest? But to fall on his

benefactor, a lord so magnanimous—O gods!”

Here he remembered that he had represented himself to Ursus on the way

as a Christian, and stopped.

“Were it not for the ‘sica,’ which I brought, he would have slain me,”

said Vinicius.

“I bless the moment in which I advised thee to take a knife even.”

Vinicius turned an inquiring glance on the Greek, and asked,—“What hast

thou done to-day?”

“How? What! have I not told thee, lord, that I made a vow for thy

health?”

“Nothing more?”

“I was just preparing to visit thee, when this good man came and said

that thou hadst sent for me.”

“Here is a tablet. Thou wilt go with it to my house; thou wilt find my

freedman and give it to him. It is written on the tablet that I have

gone to Beneventum. Thou wilt tell Demas from thyself that I went this

morning, summoned by an urgent letter from Petronius.” Here he repeated

with emphasis: “I have gone to Beneventum, dost understand?”

“Thou has gone, lord. This morning I took leave of thee at the Porta

Capena, and from the time of thy departure such sadness possesses me

that if thy magnanimity will not soften it, I shall cry myself to death,

like the unhappy wife of Zethos [Aedon turned into a nightingale] in

grief for Itylos.”

Vinicius, though sick and accustomed to the Greek’s suppleness, could

not repress a smile. He was glad, moreover, that Chilo understood in a

flash; hence he said,

“Therefore I will write that thy tears be wiped away. Give me the

candle.” Chilo, now pacified perfectly, rose, and, advancing a few

steps toward the chimney, took one of the candles which was burning at