Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖

Chapter LIX

FOR some time Vinicius had spent his nights away from home. It occurred

to Petronius that perhaps he had formed a new plan, and was working to

liberate Lygia from the Esquiline dungeon; he did not wish, however, to

inquire about anything, lest he might bring misfortune to the work.

This sceptical exquisite had become in a certain sense superstitious.

He had failed to snatch Lygia from the Mamertine prison, hence had

ceased to believe in his own star.

 

Besides, he did not count this time on a favorable outcome for the

efforts of Vinicius. The Esquiline prison, formed in a hurry from the

cellars of houses thrown down to stop the fire, was not, it is true, so

terrible as the old Tullianum near the Capitol, but it was a hundred

times better guarded. Petronius understood perfectly that Lygia had

been taken there only to escape death and not escape the amphitheatre.

He could understand at once that for this very reason they were guarding

her as a man guards the eye in his head.

 

“Evidently,” said he to himself, “Cæsar and Tigellinus have reserved her

for some special spectacle, more dreadful than all others, and Vinicius

is more likely to perish than rescue her.”

 

Vinicius, too, had lost hope of being able to free Lygia. Christ alone

could do that. The young tribune now thought only of seeing her in

prison.

 

For some time the knowledge that Nazarius had penetrated the Mamertine

prison as a corpse-bearer had given him no peace; hence he resolved to

try that method also.

 

The overseer of the “Putrid Pits,” who had been bribed for an immense

sum of money, admitted him at last among servants whom he sent nightly

to prisons for corpses. The danger that Vinicius might be recognized

was really small. He was preserved from it by night, the dress of a

slave, and the defective illumination of the prison. Besides, into

whose head could it enter that a patrician, the grandson of one consul,

the son of another, could be found among servants, corpse-bearers,

exposed to the miasma of prisons and the “Putrid Pits”? And he began

work to which men were forced only by slavery or the direst need.

 

When the desired evening came, he girded his loins gladly, covered his

head with a cloth steeped in turpentine, and with throbbing heart betook

himself, with a crowd of others, to the Esquiline.

 

The pretorian guards made no trouble, for all had brought proper

tesseræ, which the centurion examined by the light of a lantern. After a

while the great iron doors opened before them, and they entered.

 

Vinicius saw an extensive vaulted cellar, from which they passed to a

series of others. Dim tapers illuminated the interior of each, which

was filled with people. Some of these were lying at the walls sunk in

sleep, or dead, perhaps. Others surrounded large vessels of water,

standing in the middle, out of which they drank as people tormented with

fever; others were sitting on the grounds, their elbows on their knees,

their heads on their palms; here and there children were sleeping,

nestled up to their mothers. Groans, loud hurried breathing of the

sick, weeping, whispered prayers, hymns in an undertone, the curses of

overseers were heard round about it. In this dungeon was the odor of

crowds and corpses. In its gloomy depth dark figures were swarming;

nearer, close to flickering lights, were visible faces, pale, terrified,

hungry, and cadaverous, with eyes dim, or else flaming with fever, with

lips blue, with streams of sweat on their foreheads, and with clammy

hair. In corners the sick were moaning loudly; some begged for water;

others, to be led to death. And still that prison was less terrible

than the old Tullianum. The legs bent under Vinicius when he saw all

this, and breath was failing in his breast. At the thought that Lygia

was in the midst of this misery and misfortune, the hair rose on his

head, and he stifled a cry of despair. The amphitheatre, the teeth of

wild beasts, the cross,—anything was better than those dreadful

dungeons filled with the odor of corpses, places in which imploring

voices called from every corner,—

 

“Lead us to death!”

 

Vinicius pressed his nails into his palms, for he felt that he was

growing weak, and that presence of mind was deserting him. All that he

had felt till then, all his love and pain, changed in him to one desire

for death.

 

Just then near his side was heard the overseer of the “Putrid Pits,”

 

“How many corpses have ye to-day?”

 

“About a dozen,” answered the guardian of the prison, “but there will be

more before morning; some are in agony at the walls.”

 

And he fell to complaining of women who concealed dead children so as to

keep them near and not yield them to the “Putrid Pits.” “We must

discover corpses first by the odor; through this the air, so terrible

already, is spoiled still more. I would rather be a slave in some rural

prison than guard these dogs rotting here while alive—”

 

The overseer of the pits comforted him, saying that his own service was

no easier. By this time the sense of reality had returned to Vinicius.

He began to search the dungeon; but sought in vain for Lygia, fearing

meanwhile that he would never see her alive. A number of cellars were

connected by newly made passages; the corpse-bearers entered only those

from which corpses were to be carried. Fear seized Vinicius lest that

privilege which had cost so much trouble might serve no purpose.

Luckily his patron aided him.

 

“Infection spreads most through corpses,” said he. “Ye must carry out

the bodies at once, or die yourselves, together with the prisoners.”

 

“There are only ten of us for all the cellars,” said the guardian, “and

we must sleep.”

 

“I will leave four men of mine, who will go through the cellars at night

to see if these are dead.”

 

“We will drink tomorrow if thou do that. Everybody must be taken to

the test; for an order has come to pierce the neck of each corpse, and

then to the ‘Putrid Pits’ at once with it.”

 

“Very well, but we will drink,” said the overseer.

 

Four men were selected, and among them Vinicius; the others he took to

put the corpses on the biers.

 

Vinicius was at rest; he was certain now at least of finding Lygia. The

young tribune began by examining the first dungeon carefully; he looked

into all the dark corners hardly reached by the light of his torch; he

examined figures sleeping at the walls under coarse cloths; he saw that

the most grievously ill were drawn into a corner apart. But Lygia he

found in no place. In a second and third dungeon his search was equally

fruitless.

 

Meanwhile the hour had grown late; all corpses had been carried out.

The guards, disposing themselves in the corridors between cellars, were

asleep; the children, wearied with crying, were silent; nothing was

heard save the breathing of troubled breasts, and here and there the

murmur of prayer.

 

Vinicius went with his torch to the fourth dungeon, which was

considerably smaller. Raising the light, he began to examine it, and

trembled all at once, for it seemed to him that he saw, near a latticed

opening in the wall, the gigantic form of Ursus. Then, blowing out the

light, he approached him, and asked,

 

“Ursus, art thou here?”

 

“Who art thou?” asked the giant, turning his head.

 

“Dost not know me?”

 

“Thou hast quenched the torch; how could I know thee?”

 

But at that moment Vinicius saw Lygia lying on a cloak near the wall;

so, without speaking further, he knelt near her. Ursus recognized him,

and said,—

 

“Praise be to Christ! but do not wake her, lord.”

 

Vinicius, kneeling down, gazed at her through his tears. In spite of

the darkness he could distinguish her face, which seemed to him as pale

as alabaster, and her emaciated arms. At that sight he was seized by a

love which was like a rending pain, a love which shook his soul to its

uttermost depth, and which at the same time was so full of pity,

respect, and homage that he fell on his face, and pressed to his lips

the hem of the cloak on which rested that head dearer to him than all

else on earth.

 

Ursus looked at Vinicius for a long time in silence, but at last he