Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Henryk Sienkiewicz
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by this man, whose lips are unstained by a lie, for in his mother’s
veins flowed the blood of the chosen people.”
Nero turned to Chilo: “Who art thou?”
“One who honors thee, O Cyrus; and, besides, a poor Stoic-”
“I hate the Stoics,” said Nero. “I hate Thrasea; I hate Musonius and
Cornutus. Their speech is repulsive to me; their contempt for art,
their voluntary squalor and filth.”
“O lord, thy master Seneca has one thousand tables of citrus wood. At
thy wish I will have twice as many. I am a Stoic from necessity. Dress
my stoicism, O Radiant One, in a garland of roses, put a pitcher of wine
before it; it will sing Anacreon in such strains as to deafen every
Epicurean.”
Nero, who was pleased by the title “Radiant,” smiled and said,-“Thou
dost please me.”
“This man is worth his weight in gold!” cried Tigellinus.
“Put thy liberality with my weight,” answered Chilo, “or the wind will
blow my reward away.”
“He would not outweigh Vitelius,” put in Cæsar.
“Eheu! Silver-bowed, my wit is not of lead.”
“I see that thy faith does not hinder thee from calling me a god.”
“O Immortal! My faith is in thee; the Christians blaspheme against that
faith, and I hate them.”
“What dost thou know of the Christians?”
“Wilt thou permit me to weep, O divinity?”
“No,” answered Nero; “weeping annoys me.”
“Thou art triply right, for eyes that have seen thee should be free of
tears forever. O lord, defend me against my enemies.”
“Speak of the Christians,” said Poppæa, with a shade of impatience.
“It will be at thy command, O Isis,” answered Chilo. “From youth I
devoted myself to philosophy, and sought truth. I sought it among the
ancient divine sages, in the Academy at Athens, and in the Serapeum at
Alexandria. When I heard of the Christians, I judged that they formed
some new school in which I could find certain kernels of truth; and to
my misfortune I made their acquaintance. The first Christian whom evil
fate brought near me was one Glaucus, a physician of Naples. From him I
learned in time that they worship a certain Chrestos, who promised to
exterminate all people and destroy every city on earth, but to spare
them if they helped him to exterminate the children of Deucalion. For
this reason, O lady, they hate men, and poison fountains; for this
reason in their assemblies they shower curses on Rome, and on all
temples in which our gods are honored. Chrestos was crucified; but he
promised that when Rome was destroyed by fire, he would come again and
give Christians dominion over the world.”
“People will understand now why Rome was destroyed,” interrupted
Tigellinus.
“Many understand that already, O lord, for I go about in the gardens, I
go to the Campus Martius, and teach. But if ye listen to the end, ye
will know my reasons for vengeance. Glaucus the physician did not
reveal to me at first that their religion taught hatred. On the
contrary, he told me that Chrestos was a good divinity, that the basis
of their religion was love. My sensitive heart could not resist such a
truth; hence I took to loving Glaucus, I trusted him, I shared every
morsel of bread with him, every copper coin, and dost thou know, lady,
how he repaid me? On the road from Naples to Rome he thrust a knife
into my body, and my wife, the beautiful and youthful Berenice, he sold
to a slave-merchant. If Sophocles knew my history—but what do I say?
One better than Sophocles is listening.”
“Poor man!” said Poppæa.
“Whoso has seen the face of Aphrodite is not poor, lady; and I see it at
this moment. But then I sought consolation in philosophy. When I came
to Rome, I tried to meet Christian elders to obtain justice against
Glaucus. I thought that they would force him to yield up my wife. I
became acquainted with their chief priest; I became acquainted with
another, named Paul, who was in prison in this city, but was liberated
afterward; I became acquainted with the son of Zebedee, with Linus and
Clitus and many others. I know where they lived before the fire, I know
where they meet. I can point out one excavation in the Vatican Hill and
a cemetery beyond the Nomentan Gate, where they celebrate their
shameless ceremonies. I saw the Apostle Peter. I saw how Glaucus
killed children, so that the Apostle might have something to sprinkle on
the heads of those present; and I saw Lygia, the foster-child of
Pomponia Græcina, who boasted that though unable to bring the blood of
an infant, she brought the death of an infant, for she bewitched the
little Augusta, thy daughter, O Cyrus, and thine, O Isis!”
“Dost hear, Cæsar?” asked Poppæa.
“Can that be!” exclaimed Nero.
“I could forgive wrongs done myself,” continued Chilo, “but when I heard
of yours, I wanted to stab her. Unfortunately I was stopped by the
noble Vinicius, who loves her.”
“Vinicius? But did she not flee from him?”
“She fled, but he made search for her; he could not exist without her.
For wretched pay I helped him in the search, and it was I who pointed
out to him the house in which she lived among the Christians in the
Trans-Tiber. We went there together, and with us thy wrestler Croton,
whom the noble Vinicius hired to protect him. But Ursus, Lygia’s slave,
crushed Croton. That is a man of dreadful strength, O Lord, who can
break a bull’s neck as easily as another might a poppy stalk. Aulus and
Pomponia loved him because of that.”
“By Hercules,” said Nero, “the mortal who crushed Croton deserves a
statue in the Forum. But, old man, thou art mistaken or art inventing,
for Vinicius killed Croton with a knife.”
“That is how people calumniate the gods. O lord, I myself saw Croton’s
ribs breaking in the arms of Ursus, who rushed then on Vinicius and
would have killed him but for Lygia. Vinicius was ill for a long time
after that but they nursed him in the hope that through love he would
become a Christian. In fact, he did become a Christian.”
“Vinicius?”
“Yes.”
“And, perhaps, Petronius too?” inquired Tigellinus, hurriedly.
Chilo squirmed, rubbed his hands, and said,—
“I admire thy penetration, O lord. He may have become one! He may very
well have become one.”
“Now I understand why he defended the Christians.”
Nero laughed: “Petronius a Christian! Petronius an enemy of life and
luxury! Be not foolish; do not ask me to believe that, since I am ready
not to believe anything.”
“But the noble Vinicius became a Christian, lord. I swear by that
radiance which comes from thee that I speak the truth, and that nothing
pierces me with such disgust as lying. Pomponia Græcina is a Christian,
little Aulus is a Christian, Lygia is a Christian, and so is Vinicius.
I served him faithfully, and in return, at the desire of Glaucus the
physician, he gave command to flog me, though I am old and was sick and
hungry. And I have sworn by Hades that I will not forget that for him.
O lord, avenge my wrongs on them, and I will deliver to thee Peter the
Apostle and Linus and Clitus and Glaucus and Crispus, the highest ones,
and Lygia and Ursus. I will point out hundreds of them to you,
thousands; I will indicate their houses of prayer, the cemeteries, all
thy prisons will not hold them! Without me ye could not find them. In
misfortunes I have sought consolation; hitherto in philosophy alone, now
I will find it in favors that will descend on me. I am old, and have
not known life; let me begin.”
“It is thy wish to be a Stoic before a full plate,” said Nero.
“Whoso renders service to thee will fill it by that same.”
“Thou art not mistaken, O philosopher.”
But Poppæa did not forget her enemies. Her fancy for Vinicius was,
indeed, rather a momentary whim, which had risen under the influence of
jealousy, anger, and wounded vanity. Still the coolness of the young
patrician touched her deeply, and filled her heart with a stubborn
feeling of offence. This alone, that he had dared to prefer another,
seemed to her a crime calling for vengeance. As to Lygia, she hated her
from the first moment, when the beauty of that northern lily alarmed
her. Petronius, who spoke of the too narrow hips of the girl, might
talk what he pleased into Cæsar, but not into the Augusta. Poppæa the
critic understood at one cast of the eye that in all Rome Lygia alone
could rival and even surpass her. Thenceforth she vowed her ruin.
“Lord,” said she, “avenge our child.”
“Hasten!” cried Chilo, “hasten! Otherwise Vinicius will hide her. I
will point out the house to which she returned after the fire.”
“I will give thee ten men, and go this moment,” said Tigellinus.
“O lord! thou hast not seen Croton in the arms of Ursus; if thou wilt
give fifty men, I will only show the house from a distance. But if ye
will not imprison Vinicius, I am lost.”
Tigellinus looked at Nero. “Would it not be well, O divinity, to finish
at once with the uncle and nephew?”
Nero thought a moment and answered,—
“No, not now. People would not believe us if we tried to persuade them
that Petronius, Vinicius, or Pomponia Græcina had fired Rome. Their
houses were too beautiful. Their turn will come later; to-day other
victims are needed.”
“Then, O lord, give me soldiers as a guard,” said Chilo.
“See to this, Tigellinus.”
“Thou wilt lodge meanwhile with me,” said the prefect to Chilo.
Delight beamed from the face of the Greek.
“I will give up all! only hasten!—hasten!” cried he, with a hoarse
voice.
ON leaving Cæsar, Petronius had himself borne to his house on the
Carinæ, which, being surrounded on three sides by a garden, and having
in front the small Cecilian Forum, escaped the fire luckily. For this
cause other Augustians, who had lost their houses and in them vast
wealth and many works of art, called Petronius fortunate. For years it
had been repeated that he was the first-born of Fortune, and Cæsar’s
growing friendship in recent times seemed to confirm the correctness of
this statement.
But that first-born of Fortune might meditate now on the fickleness of
his mother, or rather on her likeness to Chronos, who devoured his own
children.
“Were my house burnt,” said he to himself, “and with it my gems,
Etruscan vases, Alexandrian glass, and Corinthian bronze, Nero might
indeed have forgotten the offence. By Pollux! And to think that it
depended on me alone to be pretorian prefect at this moment. I should
proclaim Tigellinus the incendiary, which he is really; I should array
him in the ‘painful tunic,’ and deliver him to the populace, protect the
Christians, rebuild Rome. Who knows even if a better epoch would not
begin thus for honest people? I ought to have taken the office, simply
out of regard for Vinicius. In case of overwork I could have
surrendered command to him, and Nero would not have even tried to
resist. Then let Vinicius baptize all the pretorians, nay, Cæsar
himself; what harm could that be to me? Nero pious, Nero virtuous and
merciful,—this would be even an amusing spectacle.”
And his carelessness was so great that he
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