Part 30 (1/2)

Then he struck the strings and began to sing,-- ”O radiant son of Leto, Ruler of Tenedos, Chilos, Chrysos, Art thou he who, having in his care The sacred city of Ilion, Could yield it to Argive anger, And suffer sacred altars, Which blazed unceasingly to his honor, To be stained with Trojan blood? Aged men raised trembling hands to thee, O thou of the far-shooting silver bow, Mothers from the depth of their b.r.e.a.s.t.s Raised tearful cries to thee, Imploring pity on their offspring. Those complaints might have moved a stone, But to the suffering of people Thou, O Smintheus, wert less feeling than a stone!”

The song pa.s.sed gradually into an elegy, plaintive and full of pain. In the Circus there was silence. After a while Caesar, himself affected, sang on,-- ”With the sound of thy heavenly lyre Thou couldst drown the wailing, The lament of hearts. At the sad sound of this song The eye to-day is filled with tears, As a flower is filled with dew, But who can raise from dust and ashes That day of fire, disaster, ruin? O Smintheus, where wert thou then?”

Here his voice quivered and his eyes grew moist. Tears appeared on the lids of the vestals; the people listened in silence before they burst into a long unbroken storm of applause.

Meanwhile from outside through the vomitoria came the sound of creaking vehicles on which were placed the b.l.o.o.d.y remnants of Christians, men, women, and children, to be taken to the pits called ”puticuli.”

But the Apostle Peter seized his trembling white head with his hands, and cried in spirit,-- ”O Lord, O Lord! to whom hast Thou given rule over the earth, and why wilt Thou found in this place Thy capital?”

Chapter LVI.

THE sun had lowered toward its setting, and seemed to dissolve in the red of the evening. The spectacle was finished. Crowds were leaving the amphitheatre and pouring out to the city through the pa.s.sages called vomitoria. Only Augustians delayed; they were waiting for the stream of people to pa.s.s. They had all left their seats and a.s.sembled at the podium, in which Caesar appeared again to hear praises. Though the spectators had not spared plaudits at the end of the song, Nero was not satisfied; he had looked for enthusiasm touching on frenzy. In vain did hymns of praise sound in his ears; in vain did vestals kiss his ”divine” hand, and while doing so Rubria bent till her reddish hair touched his breast. Nero was not satisfied, and could not hide the fact. He was astonished and also disturbed because Petronius was silent. Some flattering and pointed word from his mouth would have been a great consolation at that moment. Unable at last to restrain himself, Caesar beckoned to the arbiter.

”Speak,” said he, when Petronius entered the podium.

”I am silent,” answered Petronius, coldly, ”for I cannot find words. Thou hast surpa.s.sed thyself.”

”So it seemed to me too; but still this people--”

”Canst thou expect mongrels to appreciate poetry?”

”But thou too hast noticed that they have not thanked me as I deserve.”

”Because thou hast chosen a bad moment.”

”How?”

”When men's brains are filled with the odor of blood, they cannot listen attentively.”

”Ah, those Christians!” replied Nero, clenching his fists. ”They burned Rome, and injure me now in addition. What new punishment shall I invent for them?”

Petronius saw that he had taken the wrong road, that his words had produced an effect the very opposite of what he intended; so, to turn Caesar's mind in another direction, he bent toward him and whispered,-- ”Thy song is marvellous, but I will make one remark: in the fourth line of the third strophe the metre leaves something to be desired.”

Nero, blus.h.i.+ng with shame, as if caught in a disgraceful deed, had fear in his look, and answered in a whisper also,-- ”Thou seest everything. I know. I will re-write that. But no one else noticed it, I think. And do thou, for the love of the G.o.ds, mention it to no one,--if life is dear to thee.”

To this Petronius answered, as if in an outburst of vexation and anger, ”Condemn me to death, O divinity, if I deceive thee; but thou wilt not terrify me, for the G.o.ds know best of all if I fear death.”

And while speaking he looked straight into Caesar's eyes, who answered after a while,-- ”Be not angry; thou knowest that I love thee.”

”A bad sign!” thought Petronius.

”I wanted to invite thee to-day to a feast,” continued Nero, ”but I prefer to shut myself in and polish that cursed line in the third strophe. Besides thee Seneca may have noticed it, and perhaps Secundus Carinas did; but I will rid myself of them quickly.”

Then he summoned Seneca, and declared that with Acratus and Secundus Carinas, he sent him to the Italian and all other provinces for money, which he commanded him to obtain from cities, villages, famous temples, --in a word, from every place where it was possible to find money, or from which they could force it. But Seneca, who saw that Caesar was confiding to him a work of plunder, sacrilege, and robbery, refused straightway.

”I must go to the country, lord,” said he, ”and await death, for I am old and my nerves are sick.”

Seneca's Iberian nerves were stronger than Chilos; they were not sick, perhaps, but in general his health was bad, for he seemed like a shadow, and recently his hair had grown white altogether.

Nero, too, when he looked at him, thought that he would not have to wait long for the man's death, and answered,-- ”I will not expose thee to a journey if thou art ill, but through affection I wish to keep thee near me. Instead of going to the country, then, thou wilt stay in thy own house, and not leave it.”

Then he laughed, and said, ”If I send Acratus and Carinas by themselves, it will be like sending wolves for sheep. Whom shall I set above them?”

”Me, lord,” said Domitius Afer.

”No! I have no wish to draw on Rome the wrath of Mercury, whom ye would put to shame with your villainy. I need some stoic like Seneca, or like my new friend, the philosopher Chilo.”

Then he looked around, and asked,-- ”But what has happened to Chilo?”

Chilo, who had recovered in the open air and returned to the amphitheatre for Caesar's song, pushed up, and said,-- ”I am here, O Radiant Offspring of the sun and moon. I was ill, but thy song has restored me.”

”I will send thee to Achaea,” said Nero. ”Thou must know to a copper how much there is in each temple there.”

”Do so, O Zeus, and the G.o.ds will give thee such tribute as they have never given any one.”

”I would, but I do not like to prevent thee from seeing the games.”

”Baal!” said Chilo.

The Augustians, delighted that Caesar had regained humor, fell to laughing, and exclaimed,-- ”No, lord, deprive not this valiant Greek of a sight of the games.”

”But preserve me, O lord, from the sight of these noisy geese of the Capitol, whose brains put together would not fill a nutsh.e.l.l,” retorted Chilo. ”O first-born of Apollo, I am writing a Greek hymn in thy honor, and I wish to spend a few days in the temple of the Muses to implore inspiration.”

”Oh, no!” exclaimed Nero. ”It is thy wish to escape future games. Nothing will come of that!”

”I swear to thee, lord, that I am writing a hymn.”

”Then thou wilt write it at night. Beg inspiration of Diana, who, by the way, is a sister of Apollo.”

Chilo dropped his head and looked with malice on those present, who began to laugh again. Caesar, turning to Senecio and Suilius Nerulinus, said,-- ”Imagine, of the Christians appointed for to-day we have been able to finish hardly half!”

At this old Aquilus Regulus, who had great knowledge of everything touching the amphitheatre, thought a while, and said,-- ”Spectacles in which people appear sine armis et sine arte last almost as long and are less entertaining.”

”I will command to give them weapons,” answered Nero.

But the superst.i.tious Vestinius was roused from meditation at once, and asked in a mysterious voice,-- ”Have ye noticed that when dying they see something? They look up, and die as it were without pain. I am sure that they see something.”

He raised his eyes then to the opening of the amphitheatre, over which night had begun to extend its velarium dotted with stars. But others answered with laughter and jesting suppositions as to what the Christians could see at the moment of death. Meanwhile Caesar gave a signal to the slave torch-bearers, and left the Circus; after him followed vestals, senators, dignitaries, and Augustians.

The night was clear and warm. Before the Circus were moving throngs of people, curious to witness the departure of Caesar; but in some way they were gloomy and silent. Here and there applause was heard, but it ceased quickly. From the spoliarium creaking carts bore away the b.l.o.o.d.y remnants of Christians.

Petronius and Vinicius pa.s.sed over their road in silence. Only when near his villa did Petronius inquire,-- ”Hast thou thought of what I told thee?” ”I have,” answered Vinicius.

”Dost believe that for me too this is a question of the highest importance? I must liberate her in spite of Caesar and Tigellinus. This is a kind of battle in which I have undertaken to conquer, a kind of play in which I wish to win, even at the cost of my life. This day has confirmed me still more in my plan.”

”May Christ reward thee.”