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

shouted to drag him to the Tiber; others that Rome had shown patience

enough. It was clear that were a leader found, these threats could be

changed into open rebellion which might break out any moment. Meanwhile

the rage and despair of the crowd turned against the pretorians, who for

another reason could not make their way out of the crowd: the road was

blocked by piles of goods, borne from the fire previously, boxes,

barrels of provisions, furniture the most costly, vessels, infants’

cradles, beds, carts, hand-packs. Here and there they fought hand to

hand; but the pretorians conquered the weaponless multitude easily.

After they had ridden with difficulty across the Viæ Latina, Numitia,

Ardea, Lavinia, and Ostia, and passed around villas, gardens,

cemeteries, and temples, Vinicius reached at last a village called Vicus

Alexandri, beyond which he crossed the Tiber. There was more open space

at this spot, and less smoke. From fugitives, of whom there was no lack

even there, he learned that only certain alleys of the Trans-Tiber were

burning, but that surely nothing could resist the fury of the

conflagration, since people were spreading the fire purposely, and

permitted no one to quench it, declaring that they acted at command.

The young tribune had not the least doubt then that Cæsar had given

command to burn Rome; and the vengeance which people demanded seemed to

him just and proper. What more could Mithridates or any of Rome’s most

inveterate enemies have done? The measure had been exceeded; his

madness had grown to be too enormous, and the existence of people too

difficult because of him. Vinicius believed that Nero’s hour had

struck, that those ruins into which the city was falling should and must

overwhelm the monstrous buffoon together with all those crimes of his.

Should a man be found of courage sufficient to stand at the head of the

despairing people, that might happen in a few hours. Here vengeful and

daring thoughts began to fly through his head. But if he should do

that? The house of Vinicius, which till recent times counted a whole

series of consuls, was known throughout Rome. The crowds needed only a

name. Once, when four hundred slaves of the prefect Pedanius Secundus

were sentenced, Rome reached the verge of rebellion and civil war. What

would happen to-day in view of a dreadful calamity surpassing almost

everything which Rome had undergone in the course of eight centuries?

Whoso calls the Quirites to arms, thought Vinicius, will overthrow Nero

undoubtedly, and clothe himself in purple. And why should he not do

this? He was firmer, more active, younger than other Augustians. True,

Nero commanded thirty legions stationed on the borders of the Empire;

but would not those legions and their leaders rise up at news of the

burning of Rome and its temples? And in that case Vinicius might become

Cæsar. It was even whispered among the Augustians that a soothsayer had

predicted the purple to Otho. In what way was he inferior to Otho?

Perhaps Christ Himself would assist him with His divine power; maybe

that inspiration was His? “Oh, would that it were!” exclaimed Vinicius,

in spirit. He would take vengeance on Nero for the danger of Lygia and

his own fear; he would begin the reign of truth and justice, he would

extend Christ’s religion from the Euphrates to the misty shores of

Britain; he would array Lygia in the purple, and make her mistress of

the world.

But these thoughts which had burst forth in his head like a bunch of

sparks from a blazing house, died away like sparks. First of all was

the need to save Lygia. He looked now on the catastrophe from near by;

hence fear seized him again, and before that sea of flame and smoke,

before the touch of dreadful reality, that confidence with which he

believed that Peter would rescue Lygia died in his heart altogether.

Despair seized him a second time when he had come out on the Via

Portuensis, which led directly to the Trans-Tiber. He did not recover

till he came to the gate, where people repeated what fugitives had said

before, that the greater part of that division of the city was not

seized by the flames yet, but that fire had crossed the river in a

number of places.

Still the Trans-Tiber was full of smoke, and crowds of fugitives made it

more difficult to reach the interior of the place, since people, having

more time there, had saved greater quantities of goods. The main street

itself was in many parts filled completely, and around the Naumachia

Augusta great heaps were piled up. Narrow alleys, in which smoke had

collected more densely, were simply impassable. The inhabitants were

fleeing in thousands. On the way Vinicius saw wonderful sights. More

than once two rivers of people, flowing in opposite directions, met in a

narrow passage, stopped each other, men fought hand to hand, struck and

trampled one another. Families lost one another in the uproar; mothers

called on their children despairingly. The young tribune’s hair stood

on end at thought of what must happen nearer the fire. Amid shouts and

howls it was difficult to inquire about anything or understand what was

said. At times new columns of smoke from beyond the river rolled toward

them, smoke black and so heavy that it moved near the ground, hiding

houses, people, and every object, just as night does. But the wind

caused by the conflagration blew it away again, and then Vinicius pushed

forward farther toward the alley in which stood the house of Linus. The

fervor of a July day, increased by the heat of the burning parts of the

city, became unendurable. Smoke pained the eyes; breath failed in men’s

breasts. Even the inhabitants who, hoping that the fire would not cross

the river, had remained in their houses so far, began to leave them; and

the throng increased hourly. The pretorians accompanying Vinicius

remained in the rear. In the crush some one wounded his horse with a

hammer; the beast threw up its bloody head, reared, and refused

obedience. The crowd recognized in Vinicius an Augustian by his rich

tunic, and at once cries were raised round about: “Death to Nero and his

incendiaries!” This was a moment of terrible danger; hundreds of hands

were stretched toward Vinicius; but his frightened horse bore him away,

trampling people as he went, and the next moment a new wave of black

smoke rolled in and filled the street with darkness. Vinicius, seeing

that he could not ride past, sprang to the earth and rushed forward on

foot, slipping along walls, and at times waiting till the fleeing

multitude passed him. He said to himself in spirit that these were vain

efforts. Lygia might not be in the city; she might have saved herself

by flight. It was easier to find a pin on the seashore than her in that

crowd and chaos. Still he wished to reach the house of Linus, even at

the cost of his own life. At times he stopped and rubbed his eyes.

Tearing off the edge of his tunic, he covered his nose and mouth with it

and ran on. As he approached the river, the heat increased terribly.

Vinicius, knowing that the fire had begun at the Circus Maximus, thought

at first that that heat came from its cinders and from the Forum Boarium

and the Velabrum, which, situated near by, must be also in flames. But

the heat was growing unendurable. One old man on crutches and fleeing,

the last whom Vinicius noticed, cried: “Go not near the bridge of

Cestius! The whole island is on fire!” It was, indeed, impossible to

be deceived any longer. At the turn toward the Vicus Judæorum, on which

stood the house of Linus, the young tribune saw flames amid clouds of

smoke. Not only the island was burning, but the Trans-Tiber, or at

least the other end of the street on which Lygia dwelt.

Vinicius remembered that the house of Linus was surrounded by a garden;

between the garden and the Tiber was an unoccupied field of no great

size. This thought consoled him. The fire might stop at the vacant

place. In that hope he ran forward, though every breeze brought not

only smoke, but sparks in thousands, which might raise a fire at the

other end of the alley and cut off his return.

At last he saw through the smoky curtain the cypresses in Linus’s

garden.

The houses beyond the unoccupied field were burning already like piles

of fuel, but Linus’s little “insula” stood untouched yet. Vinicius

glanced heavenward with thankfulness, and sprang toward the house though

the very air began to burn him. The door was closed, but he pushed it

open and rushed in.

There was not a living soul in the garden, and the house seemed quite

empty. “Perhaps they have fainted from smoke and heat,” thought

Vinicius. He began to call,—

“Lygia! Lygia!”

Silence answered him. Nothing could be heard in the stillness there

save the roar of the distant fire.

“Lygia!”

Suddenly his ear was struck by that gloomy sound which he had heard

before in that garden. Evidently the vivarium near the temple of

Esculapius, on the neighboring island, had caught fire. In this

vivarium every kind of wild beast, and among others lions, began to roar

from affright. A shiver ran through Vinicius from foot to head. Now, a

second time, at a moment when his whole being was concentrated in Lygia,

these terrible voices answered, as a herald of misfortune, as a

marvellous prophecy of an ominous future.

But this was a brief impression, for the thunder of the flames, more

terrible yet than the roaring of wild beasts, commanded him to think of

something else. Lygia did not answer his calls; but she might be in a

faint or stifled in that threatened building. Vinicius sprang to the

interior. The little atrium was empty, and dark with smoke. Feeling

for the door which led to the sleeping-rooms, he saw the gleaming flame

of a small lamp, and approaching it saw the lararium in which was a

cross instead of lares. Under the cross a taper was burning. Through

the head of the young catechumen, the thought passed with lightning

speed that that cross sent him the taper with which he could find Lygia;

hence he took the taper and searched for the sleeping-rooms. He found

one, pushed aside the curtains, and, holding the taper, looked around.

There was no one there, either. Vinicius was sure that he had found

Lygia’s sleeping-room, for her clothing was on nails in the wall, and on

the bed lay a capitium, or close garment worn by women next the body.

Vinicius seized that, pressed it to his lips, and taking it on his arm

went farther. The house was small, so that he examined every room, and

even the cellar quickly. Nowhere could he find a living soul. It was

evident that Lygia, Linus, and Ursus, with other inhabitants of that

part, must have sought safety in flight.

“I must seek them among the crowd beyond the gates of the city,” thought

Vinicius.

He was not astonished greatly at not meeting them on the Via Portuensis,

for they might have left the Trans-Tiber through the opposite side along

the Vatican Hill. In every case they were safe from fire at least. A

stone fell from his breast. He saw, it is true, the terrible danger

with which the flight was connected, but he was comforted at thought of

the preterhuman strength of Ursus. “I must flee now,” said he, “and

reach the gardens of Agrippina through the gardens of Domitius, where I

shall find them. The smoke is not so terrible there, since