"Julian bred evil in his soul as wild beasts secrete venom. God waited
till all his cruelty was manifest, to strike him...."
"Don't miss the circus to-day," murmured another neighbour of
Anatolius into the ear of his companion. "There are going to be
she-bears from Britain."
"You don't say so! Real ones?"
"Yes. One's called Mica Aurea (grain of gold), and the other
Innocentia! They're fed on human flesh. And then, there'll be the
gladiators!"
"Lord Jesus!... we mustn't miss that! Let's not wait for the end!
Let's run, in order to get a seat in time!"
Meantime Theodorite was praising Julian's predecessor for his
Christian benevolence, pure life, and love for all his family.
Anatolius felt choked by the crowd. He went out of the church, and
once quit of the smell of incense and oil, drew a deep breath of fresh
air under the blue sky.
Outside the church portico a loud conversation was going on
undisturbed. A grave rumour was circulating in the crowd; the two
she-bears were being led through the streets to the amphitheatre.
Those who heard the news precipitately left the church before the end
of the sermon, asking each other anxiously--
"Are we still in time? Is Mica Aurea ill?"
"No, it's Innocentia who had a fit of indigestion to-day. But now
she's going on quite well."
"Thank God ... thank God!"
The church quickly emptied. Anatolius saw panting multitudes running
in the direction of the circus from every street, from every alley,
from every basilica. They crushed each other, trampled on women and
children, hurled abuse, lost their sandals, but halted for nothing in
the race. Every face wore a careworn expression denoting that life
depended on getting a seat in the amphitheatre. Two names full of
sanguinary promise passed from lip to lip--
"Mica Aurea! Innocentia!"
Anatolius followed the crowd into the amphitheatre.
According to the Roman custom a vast awning, the velarium, sprinkled
with perfume, protected the people against the rays of the sun, and
spread a pleasant coolness. Thousands of heads already swarmed round
the circus.
Before the opening of the games, the highest dignitaries in Antioch
carried the bronze statue of Jovian into the Imperial box, so that the
people could enjoy a sight of the new sovereign. In his right hand
Augustus was holding a globe surmounted by a cross. The sun lighted up
the placid bronze countenance of the Emperor. The officials kissed the
feet of the statue, and the populace yelled with joy--
"Hail to the saviour of the country, Augustus Jovian!"
Multitudes of hands waved coloured girdles and linen kerchiefs. The
crowd acclaimed in Jovian its symbol, its soul, its image regnant over
the world. In its scorn of the dead Emperor the mob next addressed
itself to Julian, as if he were there, still alive in the
amphitheatre, and could hear them--
"Well, philosopher, the wisdom of Plato and Crisipus wasn't much good
to you! Jupiter and Phoebus didn't protect you! Now you are in the
claws of the devils! Ah, you godless idolater, Christ has conquered!
We, the humble of the world, have conquered!"
All were convinced that Julian had been slain by a Christian, and
returned thanks to God for the blow. But the furious enthusiasm of the
crowd reached its highest pitch when they saw the gladiator prostrate
in the claws of Mica Aurea. Their eyes started out of their heads to
glut themselves with the sight of blood; and to the roaring of the
wild beast the people responded by a roar wilder still--
"Glory to the most pious Emperor Jovian! Christ has conquered!"
Anatolius felt overcome with disgust at the sweltering breath and
odour of the human horde. Closing his eyes, attempting not to draw
breath, he ran out into the street, returned to his lodging, closed
door and shutters, and flung himself on his bed until night-fall. But
it was impossible to escape the populace.
Hardly had twilight descended, when the whole of Antioch was illumined
by thousands of lights. At the angles of basilicas and Imperial
edifices huge torches were aflare, and cressets flaming in every
street. Through the cracks in the shutters of the sleeping-room of
Anatolius came in the glow of bonfires and the stink of pitch and
tallow. Songs of drunken legionaries were bellowed from neighbouring
taverns, amidst the shrill laughter of prostitutes. Dominating all,
rose the praises of Jovian, and curses on Julian the renegade.