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

wild tribes. When news came that an embassy of Lygians had visited Pomponius, offering him aid against the Marcomani, Hister sent him with Lygia to Pomponius. When they came to him they learned, however, that no ambassadors had been there, and in that way they remained in the camp; whence Pomponius took them to Rome, and at the conclusion of his triumph he gave the king’s daughter to Pomponia Græcina.

Though only certain small details of this narrative had been unknown to Vinicius, he listened with pleasure, for his enormous pride of family was pleased that an eye-witness had confirmed Lygia’s royal descent. As a king’s daughter she might occupy a position at Cæsar’s court equal to the daughters of the very first families, all the more since the nation whose ruler her father had been, had not warred with Rome so far, and, though barbarian, it might become terrible; for, according to Atelius Hister himself, it possessed an immense force of warriors. Ursus, moreover, confirmed this completely.

“We live in the woods,” said he, in answer to Vinicius, “but we have so much land that no man knows where the end is, and there are many people on it. There are also wooden towns in the forest, in which there is great plenty; for what the Semnones, the Marcomani, the Vandals, and the Quadi plunder through the world, we take from them. They dare not come to us; but when the wind blows from their side, they burn our forests. We fear neither them nor the Roman Cæsar.”

“The gods gave Rome dominion over the earth,” said Vinicius severely.

“The gods are evil spirits,” replied Ursus, with simplicity, “and where there are no Romans, there is no supremacy.”

Here he fixed the fire, and said, as if to himself,—“When Cæsar took Callina to the palace, and I thought that harm might meet her, I wanted to go to the forest and bring Lygians to help the king’s daughter. And Lygians would have moved toward the Danube, for they are virtuous people though pagan. There I should have given them ‘good tidings.’ But as it is, if ever Callina returns to Pomponia Græcina I will bow down to her for permission to go to them; for Christus was born far away, and they have not even heard of Him. He knew better than I where He should be born; but if He had come to the world with us, in the forests, we would not have tortured Him to death, that is certain. We would have taken care of the Child, and guarded Him, so that never should He want for game, mushrooms, beaver-skins, or amber. And what we plundered from the Suevi and the Marcomani we would have given Him, so that He might have comfort and plenty.”

Thus speaking, he put near the fire the vessel with food for Vinicius, and was silent. His thoughts wandered evidently, for a time yet, through the Lygian wildernesses, till the liquid began to boil; then he poured it into a shallow plate, and, cooling it properly, said,—“Glaucus advises thee, lord, to move even thy sound arm as little as possible; Callina has commanded me to give thee food.”

Lygia commanded! There was no answer to that. It did not even come to Vinicius’s head to oppose her will, just as if she had been the daughter of Cæsar or a goddess. He uttered not a word, therefore; and Ursus, sitting near his bed, took out the liquid with a small cup, and put it to his mouth. He did this so carefully, and with such a kindly smile, that Vinicius could not believe his own eyes, could not think him the same terrible Titan who the day before had crushed Croton, and, rushing on him like a storm, would have torn him to pieces but for Lygia’s pity. The young patrician, for the first time in life, began to ponder over this: What can take place in the breast of a simple man, a barbarian, and a servant?

But Ursus proved to be a nurse as awkward as painstaking; the cup was lost among his herculean fingers so completely that there was no place left for the mouth of the sick man. After a few fruitless efforts the giant was troubled greatly, and said,—“Li! it would be easier to lead an aurochs out of a snare.”

The anxiety of the Lygian amused Vinicius, but his remark did not interest him less. He had seen in circuses the terrible urus, brought from wildernesses of the north, against which the most daring bestiarii went with dread, and which yielded only to elephants in size and strength.

“Hast thou tried to take such beasts by the horns?” inquired he, with astonishment.

“Till the twentieth winter passed over me, I was afraid,” answered Ursus; “but after that it happened.”

And he began to feed Vinicius still more awkwardly than before.

“I must ask Miriam or Nazarius,” said he.

But now Lygia’s pale face appeared from behind the curtain.

“I will assist directly,” said she. And after a while she came from the cubiculum, in which she had been preparing to sleep, as it seemed, for she was in a single close tunic, called by the ancients capitium, covering the breast completely, and her hair was unbound. Vinicius, whose heart beat with more quickness at sight of her, began to upbraid her for not thinking of sleep yet; but she answered joyously,—“I was just preparing to sleep, but first I will take the place of Ursus.”

She took the cup, and, sitting on the edge of the bed, began to give food to Vinicius, who felt at once overcome and delighted. When she inclined toward him, the warmth of her body struck him, and her unbound hair fell on his breast. He grew pale from the impression; but in the confusion and impulse of desires he felt also that that was a head dear above all and magnified above all, in comparison with which the whole world was nothing. At first he had desired her; now he began to love her with a full breast. Before that, as generally in life and in feeling, he had been, like all people of that time, a blind, unconditional egotist, who thought only of himself; at present he began to think of her.

After a while, therefore, he refused further nourishment; and though he found inexhaustible delight in her presence and in looking at her, he said,—“Enough! Go to rest, my divine one.”

“Do not address me in that way,” answered Lygia; “it is not proper for me to hear such words.”

She smiled at him, however, and said that sleep had fled from her, that she felt no toil, that she would not go to rest till Glaucus came. He listened to her words as to music; his heart rose with increasing delight, increasing gratitude, and his thought was struggling to show her that gratitude.

“Lygia,” said he, after a moment of silence, “I did not know thee hitherto. But I know now that I wished to attain thee by a false way; hence I say, return to Pomponia Græcina, and be assured that in future no hand will be raised against thee.”

Her face became sad on a sudden. “I should be happy,” answered she, “could I look at her, even from a distance; but I cannot return to her now.”

“Why?” inquired Vinicius, with astonishment.

“We Christians know, through Acte, what is done on the Palatine. Hast thou not heard that Cæsar, soon after my flight