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

in a brilliantly lighted amphitheatre.

 

About dusk the whole amphitheatre was packed; the Augustians, with

Tigellinus at the head of them, came to a man,—not only for the

spectacle itself, but to show their devotion to Cæsar and their opinion

of Chilo, of whom all Rome was then talking.

 

They whispered to one another that Cæsar, when returning from the

gardens, had fallen into a frenzy and could not sleep, that terrors and

wonderful visions had attacked him; therefore he had announced on the

following morning his early journey to Achæa. But others denied this,

declaring that he would be all the more pitiless to the Christians.

Cowards, however, were not lacking, who foresaw that the accusation

which Chilo had thrown into Cæsar’s face might have the worst result

possible. In conclusion, there were those who through humanity begged

Tigellinus to stop persecution.

 

“See whither ye are going,” said Barcus Soranus. “Ye wished to allay

people’s anger and convince them that punishment was falling on the

guilty; the result is just the opposite.”

 

“True!” added Antistius Verus, “all whisper to one another now that the

Christians were innocent. If that be cleverness, Chilo was right when

he said that your brains could be held in a nutshell.”

 

Tigellinus turned to them and said: “Barcus Soranus, people whisper

also to one another that thy daughter Servilia secreted her Christian

slaves from Cæsar’s justice; they say the same also of thy wife,

Antistius.”

 

“That is not true!” exclaimed Barcus, with alarm.

 

“Your divorced women wished to ruin my wife, whose virtue they envy,”

said Antistius Verus, with no less alarm.

 

But others spoke of Chilo.

 

“What has happened to him?” asked Eprius Marcellus. “He delivered them

himself into the hands of Tigellinus; from a beggar he became rich; it

was possible for him to live out his days in peace, have a splendid

funeral, and a tomb: but, no! All at once he preferred to lose

everything and destroy himself; he must, in truth, be a maniac.”

 

“Not a maniac, but he has become a Christian,” said Tigellinus.

 

“Impossible!” said Vitelius.

 

“Have I not said,” put in Vestinius, “‘Kill Christians if ye like; but

believe me ye cannot war with their divinity. With it there is no

jesting’? See what is taking place. I have not burned Rome; but if

Cæsar permitted I would give a hecatomb at once to their divinity. And

all should do the same, for I repeat: With it there is no jesting!

Remember my words to you.”

 

“And I said something else,” added Petronius. “Tigellinus laughed when

I said that they were arming, but I say more,—they are conquering.”

 

“How is that? how is that?” inquired a number of voices.

 

“By Pollux, they are! For if such a man as Chilo could not resist them,

who can? If ye think that after every spectacle the Christians do not

increase, become coppersmiths, or go to shaving beards, for then ye will

know better what people think, and what is happening in the city.”

 

“He speaks pure truth, by the sacred peplus of Diana,” cried Vestinius.

 

But Barcus turned to Petronius.

 

“What is thy conclusion?”

 

“I conclude where ye began,—there has been enough of bloodshed.”

 

Tigellinus looked at him jeeringly,—“Ei!—a little more!”

 

“If thy head is not sufficient, thou hast another on thy cane,” said

Petronius.

 

Further conversation was interrupted by the coming of Cæsar, who

occupied his place in company with Pythagoras. Immediately after began

the representation of “Aureolus,” to which not much attention was paid,

for the minds of the audience were fixed on Chilo. The spectators,

familiar with blood and torture, were bored; they hissed, gave out

shouts uncomplimentary to the court, and demanded the bear scene, which

for them was the only thing of interest. Had it not been for gifts and

the hope of seeing Chilo, the spectacle would not have held the

audience.

 

At last the looked-for moment came. Servants of the Circus brought in

first a wooden cross, so low that a bear standing on his hind feet might

reach the martyr’s breast; then two men brought, or rather dragged in,

Chilo, for as the bones in his legs were broken, he was unable to walk

alone. They laid him down and nailed him to the wood so quickly that

the curious Augustians had not even a good look at him, and only after

the cross had been fixed in the place prepared for it did all eyes turn

to the victim. But it was a rare person who could recognize in that

naked man the former Chilo. After the tortures which Tigellinus had

commanded, there was not one drop of blood in his face, and only on his

white beard was evident a red trace left by blood after they had torn

his tongue out. Through the transparent skin it was quite possible to

see his bones. He seemed far older also, almost decrepit. Formerly his

eyes cast glances ever filled with disquiet and ill-will, his watchful

face reflected constant alarm and uncertainty; now his face had an

expression of pain, but it was as mild and calm as faces of the sleeping

or the dead. Perhaps remembrance of that thief on the cross whom Christ

had forgiven lent him confidence; perhaps, also, he said in his soul to

the merciful God,

 

“O Lord, I bit like a venomous worm; but all my life I was unfortunate.

I was famishing from hunger, people trampled on me, beat me, jeered at

me. I was poor and very unhappy, and now they put me to torture and

nail me to a cross; but Thou, O Merciful, wilt not reject me in this

hour!” Peace descended evidently into his crushed heart. No one

laughed, for there was in that crucified man something so calm, he

seemed so old, so defenceless, so weak, calling so much for pity with

his lowliness, that each one asked himself unconsciously how it was

possible to torture and nail to crosses men who would die soon in any

case. The crowd was silent. Among the Augustians Vestinius, bending to

right and left, whispered in a terrified voice, “See how they die!”

Others were looking for the bear, wishing the spectacle to end at the

earliest.

 

The bear came into the arena at last, and, swaying from side to side a

head which hung low, he looked around from beneath his forehead, as if

thinking of something or seeking something. At last he saw the cross

and the naked body. He approached it, and stood on his hind legs; but

after a moment he dropped again on his fore-paws, and sitting under the

cross began to growl, as if in his heart of a beast pity for that

remnant of a man had made itself heard.

 

Cries were heard from Circus slaves urging on the bear, but the people

were silent.

 

Meanwhile Chilo raised his head with slow motion, and for a time moved

his eyes over the audience. At last his glance rested somewhere on the

highest rows of the amphitheatre; his breast moved with more life, and

something happened which caused wonder and astonishment. That face

became bright with a smile; a ray of light, as it were, encircled that

forehead; his eyes were uplifted before death, and after a while two

great tears which had risen between the lids flowed slowly down his

face.

 

And he died.

 

At that same moment a resonant manly voice high up under the velarium

exclaimed,—

 

“Peace to the martyrs!”

 

Deep silence reigned in the amphitheatre.