irreverence," he said, coldly.
"I am truly sorry, dear father. For that I am truly sorry. But, thou
seest, I could not help it. It is wrong to offer flowers and prayers
to the gods."
"To whom then wouldst thou offer them?"
"We should bow only to the true God."
"And he? Who is he? Where is he?"
"He is the one invisible and mighty, the God of Heaven and of all
men."
"That is Jupiter, the all-powerful."
"It is not Jupiter, it is our God, as revealed in the Lord Jesus
Christ."
"A malefactor."
Virgilia smiled.
"Crucified for us," she murmured, "that we might have eternal life. He
sitteth now on the right hand of God.".
Her father gazed at her in astonishment. The girl was certainly out of
her mind? But, if she were then so was the Lady Octavia and her son
and daughter, and Martius, and hundreds, perhaps even thousands of
others, if rumor spoke truly. It was a dangerous heresy, and must be
destroyed.
It was no use to argue with a person who was really scarcely
responsible, as Virgilia now appeared to him to be. He must deal very
gently with her.
"Sit down here by me, dearest, I want to talk with thee a little."
So Virgilia sat down on a little stool at her father's feet and leaned
her arm on his knee, and while he stroked her soft hair, bound with
fillets of chased gold, set with large turquoises, he strove to calm
her and distract her mind from its vagaries.
When he sent her away, he was fully determined on a line of action.
He drew the tablets to him, and wrote a note to the most honorable
Senator Adrian Soderus, asking him to make an appointment.
Calling Alexis, he ordered him to carry the message to the house of
the Senator and bring him the answer.
The Greek returned, promptly. If it stopped raining, the Senator would
come to the house of the lawyer Aurelius Lucanus that evening, after
sundown, accompanied by the notary.
Then he summoned Sahira.
"Thou wilt clothe the Lady Virgilia in her most costly garments. Thou
wilt bind jewels in her hair and hang strings of pearls about her
neck. Her fingers, too, shall be laden with rings. Tell Alexis to
decorate the whole house with flowers and make it beautiful for a
feast."
Sahira went away, wondering what new turn affairs were taking, but she
did as she was bid, and at sundown in all Rome no more lovely maiden
could have been found than Virgilia, in her costly robes and flashing
jewels. But more beautiful than all, was the white, pure soul which no
man could see.
"Is it for a feast, Sahira?" asked Virgilia, looking at herself in the
long metal mirror, and smiling at the reflection. Virgilia was human.
"For a feast, your father said," replied the slave, leaving Virgilia
in her splendor, sitting in the fast-darkening room, alone.
The Senator Adrian Soderus, indeed, lost no time. He arrived at the
lawyer's house just at the hour of sundown, when the heavy clouds were
scattering and the sun sent shafts of golden light to turn the mists
overhanging the towers and pinnacles of Rome's palaces and temples
into filmy veils. It looked like a wraith-city, hung with yellow
gauze.
The chair stopped at the door and the noted man alighted with much
difficulty, for he was very stout from too much indulgence in the good
things of the world, and half-crippled with rheumatism, besides. It
took two strong slaves to lift him out and support him until he sank,
with a groan, on the largest and strongest seat possessed by Aurelius
Lucanus.
Claudia was given new life by the prospect of her daughter's marriage
to one of the wealthiest men in Rome, a thing which she had tried to
bring to pass some months before, but failed because of her husband's
opposition. He had said that it was wicked to give so fair a maiden as
Virgilia to this old and feeble man. Now, Claudia thanked the gods,
the objection had been removed by Virgilia's own fault.
She arrayed herself to receive the Senator with as much care as if she
were going to be a guest at Caesar's table. This marriage of
Virgilia's would bring her and her husband into the first rank of
society, a thing for which her soul had longed for many a year. A
lawyer, though a man highly honored and received at the palace, was
nevertheless, considered of medium rank. The mother of a Senator took
a different position. And all this had been caused merely by a chance
meeting with Adrian Soderus, when he had been charmed by Virgilia's
lovely face. Well, she was lovely, Claudia acknowledged, in the
intervals of scolding her waiting-woman because she did not arrange
the curls on her forehead to her satisfaction; no lovelier could be
found in the whole province, even the emperor himself had smiled upon
her one day, when she had gone with her father and mother to the
palace. Emperor's smiles, however, had little value, whereas the
Senator's riches were practical.
Claudia greeted the ponderous guest with deepest courtesies, and soon
she and the lawyer, with the notary, a little dried-up man who took
snuff freely from a golden, bejeweled box, and sneezed so violently
thereafter that Virgilia, sitting alone in her room, heard him and
laughed outright, had arranged the whole affair. Virgilia was only a
child and did not dream that in another part of the house, she was
being discussed as if she were a package of merchandise, bargained
over as coolly as though the affair concerned the sale of a slave.
This was no unusual thing in ancient Rome. A girl was her father's
property, to be disposed of as he saw fit and to his advantage.
Neither Aurelius nor Claudia intended to be cruel to Virgilia. It was
the custom of the times and her mother, at least, was thoroughly
frightened over the fact that Virgilia had been led away by strange
doctrines, taught by what she considered a very low class of persons.
She actually believed that this disposal of the daughter whom she
truly loved, would be in the end for her happiness. The Senator had a
kind face. He would be good to Virgilia.
Her father was not, however, so convinced of the right, moral right,
of what they were doing. He knew that he was fully within the civil
right. He felt very uncomfortable and inclined to throw the whole
thing up, if it were possible.
It was too late now, he feared. Claudia had set her heart on this--had
been urging it for a long time. She looked brighter this evening, more
like herself. Perhaps on the whole, Virgilia would not be any more
unhappy in the home which this old man could give her, than she would
be married to some young man whom they would choose.
The Senator provided very handsomely for Virgilia, according to the
legal document already drawn up by the notary, and this was finally
signed by all three contracting parties and by two freedmen brought by
the notary to be witnesses.
Then, the little man, after many profound bows and a parting series of
sneezes just outside the curtained door, went away. Martius was called
and told to bring Virgilia.
A feast was not unusual in the house of Aurelius, and Virgilia
anticipated it with pleasure. The memory of her disobedience and
daring in the morning had faded from her mind for the moment. Very
gaily she took Martius' hand and walked by his side.
"Thou art very beautiful to-night, sister mine," he said, with a boy's
admiration for her finery. Virgilia's laugh rang out and the group
waiting silently for her arrival, heard it. The Senator smiled,
Claudia drew her draperies around her with a hand that trembled a
little. Aurelius frowned. He wished with all his heart that he had
never signed that document which bound her to this man.
"It is my fine clothes," replied Virgilia. "A peacock would be nothing
without his gay feathers. What is the feast to-night, Martius?"
"I know not. Perhaps some friends of father's have come to eat and
drink with us."
The Senator rose with difficulty as the radiant girl entered, led by
Martius.
Amazed, Virgilia looked at her mother.
"I was called," she said, and she grew very pale.
Some time before, her mother had informed her that the great Senator
had asked her hand, but, after a conversation with her father she had
been assured that negotiations would be dropped. This man, the meaning
of the decoration of the rooms with gay Autumn blossoms of yellow and
purple; this was to be her betrothal and she had not been told. In a
flash, it was revealed to her that it was a result of her refusal to
do homage to the gods that morning. Very well, she would suffer the
consequences bravely. But, in the house to which she was to go, she
would never bow down to the idols, no matter what the result might be.
She signed the contract, submitted to the Senator her hand, and sat by
his side at the table, decorated his head with the marriage garland
and received from him another wreath of fine white orange-blooms.
Her father saw, with sorrow, that her face was deathly white.
There was eating and drinking and merriment, in which Virgilia, in
spite of her sadness, tried to join. It did not occur to her to
protest or question her father's judgment. A daughter must accept the
husband chosen for her; but she wished with all her heart that it
might have been Marcus, the son of Octavia, who was sitting by her
side, wearing the bridal garland, rather than this feeble old man.
Yet, even the thought was disloyal and unmaidenly. She dismissed it.
The merriment was at its height, and Aurelius began to feel that
Virgilia would not suffer much from this necessary solution of a
difficult problem, when the curtain of Persian silk at the door was
suddenly torn aside and the Old One entered.
Very slowly, leaning on her staff, bowed half over, and with white
hair streaming down to her shoulders, she approached the table.
Claudia screamed when she saw her and the Senator trembled. People
were very superstitious in those days, and the Old One was known to be
a prophetess.
Aurelius left his place.
"What dost thou desire, Mother?" he asked.
She lifted to him eyes filled with a strange light. The gray mantle
she wore fell away from her skinny arm as she raised it high.
"Woe! woe to the house of Lucanus!" she cried shrilly. "Your feasting
shall be turned into sorrow, your rejoicing shall be changed into
mourning and the voice of weeping shall be heard, a mother weeping for
her daughter, a father bemoaning the loss of his children, a
bridegroom grieving over a lost bride. Woe! Woe!"
Virgilia and her mother were clinging to each other. The Senator was
pallid and shaking with fear.
"Woe! woe to the house of Lucanus!" wailed the aged woman, and would
have fallen if Martius had not caught her in his strong arms.
The slaves, frightened, had gathered in the doorway. At a sign from
Aurelius, they carried her away, while Sahira tried to assist Virgilia
to calm her mother.
"She is very aged," explained the lawyer.
"She must be crazy," energetically remarked the Senator, demanding his
chair.
When he had gone away, and Claudia was in bed, with Virgilia, by her
side, the lawyer sat a long time in his little room and thought.
What was this woe that the Old One had prophesied for him and his
household?
As the light of a rosy dawn bathed the world in the beauty of a
promised day, he arose.
"She must be crazy," he said, repeating the Senator's words.
But he did not forget.
VI.
THE FEAST OF THE GRAPES.
Sunshine and laughter came after clouds and sadness. It was natural
that the effects of the Old One's strange words should pass away and
be almost forgotten, except by the lawyer, who feared disaster. He did
what for him was a novel thing. He made an offering to Jupiter. After
all, there might be something in this worship of the gods; it was
safer to be on the right side.
It was a gift of money that he made, a large gift, for Lucanus was
prosperous and received many sesterces of gold from the imperial
treasury, besides having a lucrative practice. Being so large a gift,
he decided to present it in person and get full credit for his piety
and devotion to the gods.
So, on a morning, a week later, accompanied by Alexis, the Greek
slave, who followed Christus--though this was not known--he went to
the main door of the temple in the Forum and boldly asked for the
Lycidon, chief priest of Jupiter.
"Wait thou here," he commanded, and Alexis seated himself on the
steps, watching the busy crowds passing by.
It was a feast-day, and a white bull, hung with flowers was being led
through the Sacred Way to a shrine where the people would worship him
as possessing the spirit of a great god. Everything was a god to the
Romans, even trees and animals were possessed of spirit.
Alexis looked at the bull and the procession of priests following it;
at the dancing girls and the motley crowd of men and women. He prayed
to Almighty God that he might show these poor deluded beings the
better way to Eternal Life.
The tall superior was more gracious to the lawyer who brought rich
gifts than he had been to the slave Alyrus. When he learned the name
of the donor, he was still more suave and his eyes were very keen.
"Thy name shall go down to all generations as a faithful follower of
the gods," he said, laying aside the golden chalice and purse of gold
pieces. "In these days when Rome is filled with new doctrines and
heretics are found on every side, it is cheering to know that the
learned lawyer Aurelius Lucanus gives richly to the gods."
But when Lucanus had gone away, flattered, yet relieved to get out of
those dismal corridors into the brilliant October sunshine, the priest
smiled, a cruel smile of one who meditates evil. Alexis rose from his
seat on the steps and followed his master to his office.
Claudia, in the excitement of preparing a handsome outfit for
Virgilia, forgot the Old One's words entirely and recovered her health
marvellously. She was very affectionate to Virgilia and her offense
was no more mentioned, nor was she required to worship the gods. Her
mother left this fever to run its course and be healed by new scenes
and costly jewels.
Even Virgilia, herself, grew interested in the preparations for her
departure to her husband's house, which had been fixed for a day in
November, when the religious ceremony should take place. There were
cedar chests to be filled with piles of linen, woven by the slaves.
One very handsome oak marriage chest was full of silks and gauzes of
much price, brought on the ships which sailed up the Tiber from the
port of Ostia, on their return from Egypt.
A copper box held jewels, set in Etruscan gold, exquisitely chased by
the cunning hands of workers in the Way of the Goldsmiths. There were
opals, shimmering in the sunrays, alive with inner fires of flame-color.
There were diamonds, half-cut, and pearls found in the Ganges,
with emeralds and sapphires, rubies and garnets, many of them gifts
from friends to whom announcements of the betrothal had been sent on
ivory tablets engraved in blue.
Claudia lifted out the diadem which the emperor, himself, had caused
to be brought to their door by a train of slaves, thus calling
attention to their high social standing in the eyes of all the
neighbors.
When the Senator gave Virgilia a necklace of diamonds to match those
in the diadem sent by Caesar, Claudia felt that her cup was full of
happiness. Even Virgilia was pleased and for the moment, being young
and fond of pretty things, forgot that the Christian maiden should be
unadorned save by her own modesty.
Martius was the gravest of the family. Now that Virgilia was so
occupied that she could not go to the meetings of the Christians,
although this had always been difficult for her, he went alone, or
joined Hermione and Marcus. From them and other Christians he heard
news which greatly alarmed him. There were rumors of an uprising
against the followers of Christ. It was said that the priests of
Jupiter were arousing the senators and even the emperor to a sense of
the danger in which the government would find itself if these heretics
were allowed to increase as they were doing at the present time.
The Senator Adrian Soderus, who visited the lawyer and his wife
frequently and in view of the coming marriage was permitted to see
Virgilia, confirmed the news, entirely unaware of the fact that both
his betrothed and her brother Martius belonged to the despised people.
"They multiply like rats," he said, sipping from a silver goblet the
sweet orange juice Sahira prepared. "And like rats they live in holes
in the ground. There they hold their wicked meetings and form their
impious designs. They are a menace to Rome and must be destroyed."
"Ought I to tell him?" Virgilia asked her brother after one of these
conversations.
"How do I know, dearest? It is for father to speak, and he does not. I
fear--I fear. Yet, if thou art once married to him, he is bound to
protect thee. Thou wilt surely be safe."
"But thou--and Hermione--and--Marcus?"
"God is all-powerful. We are in his hands."
There came the messenger from the Lady Octavia bearing a pearl anklet
as a wedding gift to Virgilia with many greetings and good wishes. And
if it were possible, would they all come "to celebrate the Feast of
the Grapes, in five days?"
"I will not go," said Claudia. "The Lady Octavia is not to my liking."
"Nor I," added Aurelius, "but we must not be discourteous, she is a
good client. It will be an enjoyable feast in this fine weather.
Virgilia's cheeks are too pale. She and Martius shall go."
On the day of the Feast, Virgilia was glad to go out into the fresh
air, to leave the seamstresses busy sewing in the inner courtyard.
They were embroidering fine garments of silk so soft that it could be
drawn through a ring. They were hemming and drawing threads, draping
and cutting the rich material from Tyre which was to form part of
Virgilia's wedding outfit.
The young girl was sad on this beautiful October day when the air was
spicy with the whiffs of ripe grapes and pomegranates in the gardens
and vineyards. She was thinking of what it would mean to go away from
her home, to leave her parents and Martius, to take up another life,
and be obedient to the old Senator, who, kind and indulgent as he
might be, was, nevertheless, little more than her master, or she,
little better than one of her own slaves. Not once, however, did the
thought enter her mind that she was a free being, at liberty to rebel
and decline this marriage so suddenly arranged for her. It was for her
parents to decide what her future should be, and for her to obey.
Early in the morning of the day which they were to pass in the lovely
gardens of Octavia, Virgilia ascended a narrow steep staircase and
went out upon the flat roof. It was like a garden up here, with
trellises and vines. Some late tea-roses were in bloom. The girl broke
off one and placed it in the folds of her gown. She could breathe in
its sweetness.
Over at one end of the roof--or terrace, as it is called--sat the Old
One, making a carpet. Above her head was a gay scarlet and blue
awning, to protect her from the sun, still hot, even in cool October.
The slave looked up and smiled when Virgilia came near, motioning to a
pile of cushions.
"Ever busy, Mother?" said the young girl, examining the work.
The rug was very handsome. It had five borders wrought in dull blues,
white and yellow, covered with conventional designs, and the centre
was exquisite, a white ground on which loose flowers were thrown
negligently, carelessly, without regular form, yet the whole was
perfect.
"It is almost finished, my child, and when it is done, it shall be for
thee, to adorn thy home."
"For me?"
"My wedding gift to thee. On the day that thou wast born, I began it,
and all through these seventeen years I have worked at it, thinking
that on the day when thou shouldst go away to thy husband, the rug
would go with thy household goods to remind thee of the aged woman
whose gnarled and withered hands wrought it for thee."
"I shall ever hold it precious."
Virgilia sank down on the cushions, listlessly. Far away she could see
the blue lines of mountains, bordering the fields where Lucius the
Water-Carrier lived, where were the marvellous tombs of the great on
the Appian Way; where stately homes bordered the fashionable Ostian
Way, and where were the Catacombs where the Christians buried their
dead and gathered for worship.
She looked with some curiosity at the placid, gentle face of the old
woman. That night, when she had burst in upon the betrothal feast with
her dire prophecies, she had been transformed, a creature of whom they
were afraid. Had she been conscious of what she said then? Virgilia
thought not.
"Mother," she said, "thy many years of life have brought to thee
wisdom. Should one tell everything to one's husband? Even when it may
be dangerous?"
The Old One held a yellow thread suspended from her ivory hook and
looked keenly at Virgilia.
"Thou hast a secret, my child?"
"Yes, mother."
"One of which thou art ashamed?"
"No, no. But it involves others."
The bricks were sprinkled with sand. Virgilia stopped and drew a fish
in the sand. She had for some time suspected that the Old One was a
Christian. If she were, she would recognize the symbol of Christ, the
"Icthus." If she were not, it would do no harm.
"And thou, too, art a little fish," murmured the Old One. "Thanks be
to His holy name, when the Lord Christ was born, I was a Princess in
the court of Herod, the King, who was sore afraid, because it was told
him that a new King had come to reign over Israel. The angels sang at
His birth and the kings from the East brought presents of frankincense
and myrrh. I fell into the hands of the Romans, and here I am, a
slave. But it was a plan of God. In Rome, I learned to know Christ."
"Virgilia! Virgilia!" Martius called. "It is time to go. Hurry! The
chair is at the door."
"If the time comes when for conscience' sake thou must disclose that
thou art a follower of Christ, do so. If not, keep silence and worship
Him in thine heart lest evil come upon the thousands who love Him,"
said the Old One. Her eyes grew filmy and she stretched out her hands,
tremblingly. "I see--I see--a shadow of death--approaching. But in the
shadow--shines the face--of our--Risen Lord."
"Mother, Mother!" said Virgilia, alarmed.
"Was I speaking? What did I say? This work must be finished soon, for
the marriage."
"Virgilia!" came Martius' peremptory summons.
"Yes, I am coming."
Stopping only to call Sahira to bring the Old One a refreshing drink,
Virgilia veiled herself, entered her chair, and with Martius walking
by her side, was borne out of the city gate guarded by men in full
uniform, armed with staves and knives, and through the road leading to
the Lady Octavia's house.
What a day that was! The vines, festooned gracefully between dwarf
mulberry trees, were loaded with huge bunches of purple and white
grapes. The men and women slaves were gathering them and heaping them
up in baskets. The red juice escaped and ran in streams over the
yellow earth.
Laughing and merry the four young people passed among the servants
eating grapes to their heart's content, telling stories of other days,
leaving the future to unfold for itself. They did not try to foresee
it.
At noon, they went to the cool, shady room overlooking the garden and
ate the cold meats and fresh green salad, luscious fruit and white
goat's cheese, finishing the meal with sweet cakes and a delicious
drink made from the fresh juice of the grapes just gathered.
Before they ate, the freedmen stood, respectfully waiting, while
Octavia, in a low voice, offered a prayer of thanksgiving for the food
so bountifully provided. Only a small part of the servants, formerly
slaves, were Christians, and Octavia had often been warned that her
life and that of her children was in danger through her open defiance
of the priests and declaration of her own Christian faith.
"I trust in God," was all that she would say.
In her house were no gods, no images. Flowers there were, in
abundance, the rooms were bowers of beauty, the table, with its
spotless cloth of fine white linen, bore silver vases filled with
roses and autumn blossoms, but there were no shrines and no statutes.
On this Feast of the Grapes around Rome Bacchus was worshipped and
much wine was drunk, until the people lost their senses and became
brutes. In Octavia's home, the feast was observed with games and songs
and merriment, but all was done decently and in order. It was because
her views were not theirs that many of the friends who had visited
them when the Senator was alive--now refused to associate with the
Lady Octavia, although they could not openly ignore her on account of
her great wealth.
It drew toward evening. The days were still long, and Martius planned
to return home by moonlight. At seven o'clock, they were eating supper
in an arbor at the side of the Villa. The big, round moon was rising
over the Alban Hills, soon it would be a great lamp in the sky.
All over the Campagna the Feast of the Grapes had been celebrated that
day. The sounds of boisterous laughter, of loud singing, came to their
ears from the crowds who were passing outside the high walls
surrounding the entire estate.
"There is more noise than usual," remarked Octavia.
The sounds had changed. They grew menacing. People were quarreling
with each other. "It is nothing," replied Marcus. "Always on this
Feast, there is much drunkenness and revelry."
But his mother was uneasy.
"It is wiser for thee to return home at once, Martius," she said. "I
will carry thy chair, Virgilia. The bearers have been resting long."
"I have a strong stick," Martius said, laughing, "and Alexis is armed.
We can easily protect Virgilia."
"Is it not better for you to remain here," suggested Marcus. "We will
send a messenger to thy father."
"Nonsense. There is no danger. But it is wiser that we should start at
once. Later, there will be thousands returning home."
At that moment, the porter from the gate came running toward the
arbor. He was, plainly, very much excited. With him was a man of dark
swarthy skin, and a scar across his forehead.
"Thou, Alyrus?" exclaimed Martius, surprised to see the Moor here.
"I have a message for you, my young master." Martius failed to observe
the bitterness in which he spoke the last words, or the glow of his
dark eyes, resting by turns on each member of the group. "You and the
Lady Virgilia are to return home at once. Your father desired me to
tell you that the people are enraged at an insult offered by some
Christians to one of the holy gods."
"Go, go!" said Octavia.
Martius stopped a moment to speak to Hermione, while Marcus assisted
Virgilia into her chair.
"Is it safe for thee?" he asked. "We cannot tell what may happen."
She smiled at him.
"God is with us, Martius, my friend."
"I would that I had thy great faith, Hermione. We part but to meet
again."
"If God will?"
The chair, carried by four men, passed out of the iron gate, which
swung shut behind them. The heavy bolts were shot quickly into place
by the frightened porter. Riots were not unknown in Rome, but riots
which were against Christians were very serious matters.
If glances full of meaning were exchanged between Alyrus and the
bearers, neither Martius nor Alexis noticed them.
The crowd in front of Octavia's gate was now very menacing. The men
were throwing stones over the wall and crying: "Down with the
Christians!"
"Way! Way for the daughter of Aurelius Lucanus, worshipper of the
gods," cried Alyrus, and the crowd parted to let them through.
VII.
ENTER, LYCIAS, THE GLADIATOR.
Lidia, the scullery maid, stole out of the back door of her master's
house. Bare-foot she was and her black hair streamed out behind her as
she ran swiftly through the streets of Rome. Few noticed her, for the
people were still excited from the doings of the night before. Groups
stood at the places where roads crossed, or in the shadows of the
columns and discussed what had occurred. When such important matters
as the arrest of a few hundreds of Christians were concerned, the
little maid with frightened eyes and ragged clothes was not of any
moment.
"It is the priests who stirred up this trouble," said one man looking
up at the grim grayish-white walls of Jupiter's temple. "I am no
follower of Christus, but I employed a man who was, and he was ever
industrious and sober. They are not such a bad lot. It is a pity--"
"Whist!" exclaimed another man. "Speak not so loud. Even the walls of
yonder temple have ears. They say that there are speaking tubes hidden
in every room so that the Superior may know just what goes on. I'll
tell you the one thing, my friend, if the priests are in it there's
gold somewhere. They don't do things for nothing."
"That they do not. Didst hear that the splendid villa of Octavia,
widow of Aureus Cantus, the Senator, was raided by a mob last night?
The freedmen are scattered or seized again as slaves and the family,
the lady and two children have entirely disappeared. Her home and all
its treasures have already been confiscated, as belonging to a traitor
and I'll venture that the priests in yonder get a good share of the
wealth."
"She was an honorable woman. It is a shame."
"Shame, yes, but it pleases the people and gratifies the priests, two
things very essential to him who sits upon the throne."
"Dost think--"
"Aye, I think much that I do not say. Hundreds of Christians have been
herded into the prisons, the uprising of the multitude yesterday was
but part of the game. It was all planned. They say, too, that a dark
man, with great gold rings in his ears and a scar on his face, has
been tracking these Christians for weeks. No doubt he was an emissary
of the priests."
"I have seen him myself. There he goes, now."
Alyrus walked through the crowd like a king, as if he expected them to
bow before him.
"I've seen him before," said the first man. "Where was it? I remember
now. It was he who sat in the ante-chamber of Aurelius Lucanus'
office. He is his slave."
"And is the honorable lawyer mixed up in this business?"
"Who knows? One thing is certain. The people will be amused and forget
the cruelties of the Emperor, for there will be a grand show in the
amphitheatre, far grander than any gladiatorial show."
"Thou meanest--"
"That these Christians must be disposed of, or they will rebel. The
lions are even now growling in the underground cages."
Lidia sped on, though her feet grew very weary before she reached the
cave where Lucius dwelt. He was standing in front of it, blowing into
a flame some charcoal in a small iron brazier. She approached him
unseen. He looked up, startled when he heard her calling him.
"Ah, Lidia, is it thou? Hast come to have supper with thy father? Thou
art welcome. There is a tender kid roasted and I have gathered some
fresh greens in the field. I will make thee a salad."
"Please do, dear father. I am very weary and have tasted no food since
morning."
Sitting down on the grass, they gave thanks and ate. The shepherd gave
her a large plantain leaf for a plate. Their food was such as Jacob
ate in days of old, long before Rome was built.
"Thou art very weary, my child."
"And heart-sick. Thou hast not been in the city for two days."
"No. The rains have been so heavy that the sprinkling from my
sheepskin bag was not needed. So I stayed here to care for the herds."
"Then thou dost not know what has happened. Father, my master and the
Lady Claudia are in deep distress. Martius and the Lady Virgilia went
to visit the widow of Cantus outside the gate, on the day when the
Feast of the Grapes was celebrated. They have never returned. Nor has
Alyrus, who was sent on an errand by Aurelius that afternoon, nor
Alexis, the Greek. Not one has come back to tell of their fate. This
morning, Sahira, my Lady Claudia's waiting-maid disappeared and the
mistress lies there moaning and crying. It is pitiful. Everyone is in
disorder of spirit. I, even though I am but a scullery-maid, did creep
into my Lady's room and put cold cloths on her head and fanned her
face. No one else thought of her. The servants go here and there,
without a head; the whole house is in confusion. Some of the slaves
have already run away. It is rumored, father, that many Christians
have been arrested. No doubt Martius and Virgilia are among them."
"But thou?"
"I am safe. Who cares for so humble a person as I? The Old One is very
ill. I think she is going to die. No one cares for her but me. But I
am safe. No one notices me, for I am little and ugly, thank God. I
soothe the Old One, who moans and cries: 'Woe. Woe! to this
household,' I must go back now. It is but four and twenty hours,
father, since the home of Aurelius was full of joy and gladness. Now
it is desolate."
The shepherd rose and picked up his staff.
"Lidia, it is Alyrus who has wrought all this. He and the priests of
Jupiter. I will seek out Lycias, the gladiator. He will know what to
do."
A warm red shone in Lidia's thin, sallow cheeks.
"Thou wilt greet him from me, father?"
He nodded, and walked rapidly away, while Lidia, taking another path,
ran toward the gates of Rome. Inside the walls, she almost collided
with Alyrus, the Moor, who strode by not recognizing her. Slipping
along in the shadows, she followed him eagerly, as intently as her
father would have done, through the streets, into the Forum to the
Temple of Jupiter, and saw him enter the side door.
Then she hastened back to her duties, going into the house which was
very still and deserted. Only a few of the many slaves owned by
Aurelius the lawyer, remained to guard his interests. When the
displeasure of an emperor falls on a man, it means disaster.
She looked in at her mistress' door and found her sleeping, moaning as
she slept. She went to the servant's quarters. On her humble couch lay
the Old One, who had been a Princess in the court of Herod sixty years
before, beautiful, admired. Her face was very quiet and the expression
was sweet. Death had touched her lightly when he bore her into the
presence of the Lord whom she had loved. The finished rug which she
had made for Virgilia's wedding present lay under the scarlet and
white awning on the Terrace.
Alyrus had come into his reward. He was free, and Sahira his daughter
was free, a purse of gold was in his hand and a ship lay waiting in
the harbor, to carry them away to their home by the desert.
Alyrus was not ready to go, yet. He wanted first to see all the
amusement which there would be in Rome. He could not miss the climax
of what he had intrigued for. He knew nothing of that Judas who had
sold his Lord for thirty pieces of silver, or he might have likened
himself to this traitor.
No, he would not leave until the games were over. The scheme had
worked well. There had not been the slightest hitch from the moment
that they left the gate of Octavia's villa, until the bearers, who
were in the plot, carried Virgilia into the Temple of Jupiter, and
Martius and Alexis, little noticed in the unusual excitement stirred
up by the priests, were easily overpowered and cast into one of the
lowest dungeons.
Yes, it had been most successful. Alyrus returned to the temple now to
see Sahira who was in charge of the holy women and sallied forth again
to sit in one of the shops and drink a glass of grape juice. He was a
thoroughly temperate man, knowing that wine muddles the brain and
perverts the judgment.
It was now late in the evening. Proclamations were already on the
walls announcing that on the fourth day, there would be grand games in
the Circus. Gladiatorial contests would be the first thing on the
program, followed by the lions and Christians. The learned ones were
reading this notice aloud to the ignorant and the women, and all
seemed to be much pleased.
Alyrus sat down and ordered his cup of fresh grape juice, with snow
from Mt. Hermon to cool it in. As he sipped it, he saw the great
gladiator, Lycias, come into the circle of light from the flaring
torches, but he did not perceive the shepherd, who remained outside,
in the shadow.
Now, Lycias was a great man in the eyes of the Romans. He had been a
poor boy, but by reason of his strength had risen to be the first
gladiator. He and Lidia the kitchen-maid, had grown up together in the
cave of Lucius, for Lycias had been found, a tiny baby, lying at the
door of the sheepfold. For the love and care bestowed upon him, Lycias
had always been grateful.
Therefore, at the request of Lucius, was he here.
At the entrance of the famous gladiator, a shout arose from the men
seated at the small tables.
"Hail, Lycias! Hail, Lycias!" came from every side.
The tall man bowed to one friend and then another, smiled and walked
through the room, seeking a place to sit. With a smile, he declined
proffered seats with groups of men, and finally took a place near
Alyrus, the Moor.
"If it does not inconvenience you," he said.
"Not in the least," replied Alyrus, flattered at the attention thus
drawn to him.
The gladiator laid aside his silver helmet, unloosed his short sword
and ordered light refreshment from the proprietor who came himself to
serve so noted a guest.
Had some great philosopher entered, he would have been greeted with
respect but would not have aroused anything like so much interest or
enthusiasm as did the victorious gladiator. Even the boys in the
streets knew his name and tried to imitate him.
For some time, while he had satisfied a very hearty appetite, Lycias
did not open a conversation, and Alyrus, a little awed, had hesitated
to speak.
Apparently for the first time, the gladiator examined the Moor's face.
Springing to his feet, he saluted in a military fashion.
"Your pardon, my lord, I knew not that I had ventured to presume upon
the kindness of Claudius Auranus, governor of Carthage."
Alyrus stammered.
"Be seated, sir, I--I am not his excellency the governor of Carthage.
I am a much humbler man, a chieftain of Tripoli."
"Ah! I knew that you were some distinguished person, from your bearing
and dress."
When Alyrus smiled, he was uglier than ever.
"A brute!" muttered Lycias, under his breath. Then aloud: "Are you on
some mission to the Emperor?"
"Ahem. Not so. But very high in the secrets of the chief priest of
Jupiter."
"One might call him the power behind the throne."
"Thou hast said truly."
"And it is really true that thou art admitted to those holy
precincts?"
"Behold!" Alyrus drew from the folds of his garment the bronze lizard.
"Not only does this admit me to the temple itself but to any place in
the city of Rome. Thou seest. It is the symbol of the priests of
Jupiter."
"I see," Lycias' eyes gleamed, as he watched Alyrus placing the
precious symbol in a safe place.
Then, Alyrus, intoxicated by the events of the past few moments, by
his sudden transition from slavery to freedom, at the prospect opening
before him of a speedy return to the home he loved, flattered at the
homage shown him by the gladiator, poured out the whole story into
ears only too willing to hear. He narrated everything except that he
had been a slave, representing himself as a client of Aurelius
Lucanus, who had been grievously wronged by him. He told how he had
discovered, one day in the public Forum, that the son and daughter of
the lawyer were Christians, and Aurelius sympathized with them; how,
by the chief priest's desire, he had assisted in tracking many more of
the despised sect, of whom several hundred were now languishing in
prison, among them, Octavia the widow of the proud Senator Aureus
Cantus, and her son and daughter.
Lycias passed his big hand over his smoothly shaven face to hide his
expression of disgust. He rose.
"If you permit, honored sir, I will now retire, with the hope that we
shall meet again."
"Willingly will I continue the conversation. Perhaps--" Alyrus was
swelling with importance, "it would interest you to visit the prisons
and see these Christians before they are thrown into the arena. I
understand that you are first on the program."
"Yes. I had thought of asking such a privilege as a visit to these
prisoners. By the way, where is the daughter of Aurelius?"
Alyrus shot a keen glance at him, but the face of Lycias was guileless
as that of a child.
"She is well guarded. I can tell you that, and her brother Martius,
with Alexis the Greek slave--who ever looked down upon me," he added,
unguardedly, continuing in haste, as he perceived his mistake, "I
should have said, who was impertinent to me one day, lie in a dungeon
far in the earth below the temple. From there, is a private
underground passageway to the Circus. They will never see the light of
day again."
"A faithless friend, a bitter enemy," was Lycias' thought as striding
forth from the room, he joined Lucius.
"It is worse than I feared," Lucius said. "There is little hope."
"We shall see," responded the gladiator, thoughtfully. "Art thou
willing to take great risks to save the son and daughter of Aurelius?"
"For the sake of Lidia, who loves them, I am."
"Await my instructions, then," and they parted.
The next afternoon, Alyrus let Lycias through the dark prisons in
which the Christians were herded like beasts. The guards opened every
door at the sight of the symbol of priestly authority, the bronze
lizard.
Lycias, brave and strong man, grew sick at the dreadful suffering of
delicate women, frail young girls accustomed to luxury, who were so
suddenly thrown into surroundings and as they had never dreamed of.
All because of their faith? Lycias began to wonder what the power was
which enabled these feeble creatures to face death with calmness and
courage.
"There must be something in this religion of Jesus Christ which makes
them forget themselves," he thought. "I will ask Lidia to tell me the
secret."
In one corner of a dark, damp cell, several persons were kneeling in
prayer. The voice of an old man could be heard, petitioning God, for
Christ's sake, to lead them through this valley of the shadow of death
and bring them to the holy city in its beauty and into the presence of
their Lord and Master.
"There, that is Virgilia, the fair one, yonder, with face upraised,"
said Alyrus.
Lycias took a long look at the young girl, so that he would know her
again.
"Next to her is Hermione, and Octavia, widow of Aureus Cantus and her
son. All three are there!"
The laugh of the Moor was hideous in its coarseness. The young girls
shivered and drew closer to Octavia.
"Fear not," Octavia whispered, smiling at them. God had given her
great courage.
It was on this day that Alyrus, growing more confidential, told Lycias
of the vessel lying in the River Tiber, ready to set sail as soon as
he and Sahira went on board.
"I have only to show them the symbol," he quoted, "and the sailors and
officers are subject to my orders."
That evening, the gladiator went to the cave, and finding Lidia with
her father, ate the supper of coarse bread and goat's cheese with
them.
"Thou art accounted of much wisdom," he said to Lidia, "thy little
head hath been ever steady on thy shoulders. Tell us what to do."
"I am only a kitchen-maid," Lidia replied, blushing at the compliment,
"but I should think that we might do thus."
And a plan was made to their satisfaction, a very difficult plan
involving great danger for all of them, perhaps death to Lycias and
Lucius. It hung to a large degree on one thing which seemed to be
unattainable.
"With God, all things are possible," said wise little Lidia.
"Let us pray," said the shepherd, and he and Lidia fell upon their
knees on the grass in front of the cave, where even now in late
Autumn, some tiny pink-tipped daisies were blooming.
After a moment's hesitation, Lycias, who had never knelt to any but
heathen gods, bent his knee also and uncovered his head in the
presence of the unseen but powerful Ruler of the Universe.
He and Lidia walked back to Rome together.
As they parted, the big gladiator looked down into her earnest little
face, with the clear, honest eyes.
"I should like to learn about Christ," he said.
"I will teach thee, Lycias, though I am but a weak follower of my
Master."
The next day, the one before the games were to take place in the
Circus, two things happened.
Alyrus, met again by Lycias, took him to the marble quarry by the
Tiber, where, on the slowly flowing river, were moored great ships.
There was a veritable forest of masts, cut from the strong cedars of
Lebanon, and the groves of Mt. Hermon.
"That is my ship, yonder," he said. As they emerged from the wharf,
Alyrus was suddenly jostled by a rough-looking shepherd. Lycias caught
the Moor in his arms to prevent his falling. The draperies Alyrus wore
were disarranged and a small object fell, unnoticed by him, to the
ground. Lycias placed his big, sandaled foot over this object.
"Dog of a shepherd!" raved Alyrus, running after the man.
Lycias stooped, picked up the small object and thrust it into his gown
and soon reached the Moor by a few long strides.
"Let him go!" he advised. "See, he is already almost out of sight."
VIII.
THE SYMBOL OF THE LIZARD.
The games in the amphitheatre on this, the first day of November
attracted an unusual number of persons.
The emperor was there, with all his court, and the Vestals honored the
games with their presence. Alyrus sat in a prominent place, with
Sahira, former slave of Aurelius Lucanus and maid to Claudia, beside
him. The dark-faced girl attracted much attention, so great was her
beauty. Freed by special decree of Caesar, at the request of Lycidon,
the priest, she had, by her father's desire been dressed like a
fashionable girl of the period.
"Dost see them coming?" asked Alyrus, eagerly. "Thine eyes are younger
than mine. Dost see them yet?"
"No, father. It is only the gladiators. Ah! that Lycias is a king
among men! how strong! how noble!"
A shade passed over the face of Alyrus the Moor.
"Yes. A fine youth, yet--I wish that I had not lost that bronze
lizard, Sahira. It bodes misfortune. Rome is not a safe place for us,
in spite of the favor of Lycidon. We must go as soon as the games are
over. Could it be possible that Lycias--"
"Look, father, see Lycias, the conqueror. The emperor smiles upon him;
a lady has thrown him a jewel. He bows. He is gone. How proud he must
be!"
"And now, they will come! See, yonder, Sahira, that group of white-robed
men and women. Ha! hear the wild beasts, how they growl in their
cages, pawing the bars, pleading to be let loose."
Alyrus, wild with gratified hatred, his face as evil as that of a
demon, leaned far over that he might lose nothing of the pitiful drama
about to be enacted in the arena.
The Christians came forward slowly, the women clinging together in
their physical weakness, though their souls were strong in the
strength of their faith.
There was Octavia, leading Hermione and Virgilia. The widow's face was
bright with a great light. There was Martius almost blinded by the
contrast between the terrible darkness of the dungeon beneath
Jupiter's temple, where he had spent four days and nights of misery,
frantic when he thought of Virgilia and what her fate might be. He and
Alexis had only a half hour before been brought through the
underground passage-way to the cells where the Christians were
waiting. He and Virgilia met here, on the sanded arena, where
thousands of persons were gazing at them. Martius stepped to his
sister's side, and put his arm around her. He stretched out his hand
to clasp that of Hermione.
"We shall meet again, yonder," he whispered, glancing upward.
Now, just as they were being pushed into the arena, a strange thing
had happened. A tall man, whom Martius had not recognized as Lycias,
the gladiator, approached him and said: "In the arena, I will be near
you, standing by one of the gates. If you can be calm enough in the
moment of excitement, note where I am. When I give the signal, take
your sister in your arms and follow me."
He had said the same to Marcus, telling him to assist Octavia and
Hermione and bear them forth.
"Fear not," the stranger had said. "If your God has power, he will
save you all out of the lion's mouth."
Opening from the arena were several iron gates. Some of these served
as entrances to the prisons or cells, where the Christians had been
kept until the moment when they were commanded to come forth and
perform their part in amusing the wicked emperor and his impious
people. Others, four in number, were the entrances to passageways
leading to the open air. There were used by the gladiators and by the
employees whose duty it was to arrange the "scenery."
Each gate was guarded, in the arena and at the outer exit, by a
soldier, well armed.
It was by one of these open gates that Martius and Marcus obeying the
words of the gladiator, eager to seize any chance of escape, kept the
women.
The shouts of the multitude arose. "The Christians! The Christians! To
the lions!"
It was then that Alyrus shrank back and a deadly fear seized him. What
had he done? What had he done? He remembered past kindnesses. He
remembered how Sahira had been saved from a life of sorrow and shame
by Aurelius Lucanus. How had he repaid him? By treachery and evil. For
the first time in his life, Alyrus was conscious of sin. The
Christian's God! Who was He? Could he avenge? A horrible coldness
enveloped him. He could not move. Then he knew nothing more.
But Sahira, not noticing that her father was ill, was looking down at
the white group, now kneeling on the ground, while the white-haired
elder prayed, with arms up-raised.
There was another shout.
Martius who had never felt cooler in his life, saw Lycias and touched
Marcus on the arm.
"Come," he said. "We are not far from the entrance. Quick!"
Martius seized Virgilia in his arms; Marcus led his mother and
Hermione.
It was but a step, a moment and they were by the side of Lycias.
Hermione was fainting. The gladiator lifted her as easily as if she
were a child.
"Follow me," said Lycias, striding before them.
Dazed, scarcely knowing where they were or what they were doing, the
women, clinging to the men; walked along the narrow way. In the
circus, there were more shouts and cries. Hermione trembled in the
strong arms of Lycias. He soothed her gently.
"Pray to your God," he said, "that He may bring us safely through."
"Who are you?"
"I am Lycias, a friend of Christians, and I, too would learn of the
faith."
One great danger lay before them. It was the guard at the outer
doorway, which opened on the street. He opposed their exit.
"No one passes here," he said.
"No one except me and my friends," responded the gladiator, boldly.
"Dare you say to Lycias that he may not pass?"
The soldier's face relaxed, but still he stood in the path.
"To-day, I have specially strict orders lest some of the Christians
escape. For my part, I would willingly let some of those poor
creatures flee, but I value my head."
"Perhaps thou wilt not gainsay me when thou seest my pass."
Lycias held up the bronze lizard. Really, the big gladiator himself
doubted the power of this symbol. He began to fear that they would all
be forced back into the arena, which was sure death, not only for
those whom he wished to save, but for himself, also. He would receive
no mercy, even though he had been the idol of the people but an hour
before and the air had rung with his praises. It would count him
little, if he were caught helping the victims to escape.
The soldier looked at him with staring eyes.
"The symbol of the chief-priest," he whispered. "In the name of
Jupiter, go by in peace, and may his wrath not fall upon me and mine."
A few paces more, and the light of air of the blessed day bathed them
in warmth and gave them courage.
The gladiator set Hermione on her feet and wiped his dripping
forehead.
"Barely escaped," he muttered.
No one was in this part of the street by the amphitheatre. All the
interest was in the interior. So great had been the number of
Christians that Octavia and the others in this little group had not
been missed.
Where they were going, they knew not; but that, for the moment, they
were safe, they all thankfully realized and that they owed it to this
big stranger with the honest face.
"Let us, for one moment, thank God for our deliverance," said Octavia.
Not daring to kneel, they turned their faces toward Heaven while
Octavia breathed forth a fervent prayer.
"We must hurry," said Lycias, leading the way to the Forum, to-day
deserted for the greater amusements of the games, in which the
Christians were the chief attraction.
It was a long, hard walk to the marble wharf where the ship lay on
which Alyrus and his daughter were soon to set sail, as Lycias well
knew. His great fear was lest the Moor might have decided to go
earlier and not wait for the conclusion of the games. Suppose they
arrived at the wharf and found the ship gone? What should they do?
Lycias' brain studied this problem. All these people were homeless,
except the shepherd. Ah! that was it! If the ship had sailed, he would
take these delicately nurtured women to the cave on the Campagna.
It grew necessary for the men to help the women, who were very weary
and weak from excitement; although Lycias did not wish to call any
more attention to them than was necessary, for fear that the ladies,
especially Octavia, who was well known, might be recognized. All the
Romans had not gone to the Circus, some were sitting in the eating-places,
and women were knitting in the doorways. Fortunately, it was
getting toward evening, but that would be a signal for the thousands
to leave the amphitheatre and scatter to their homes.
There was need for haste.
They approached the shores of the Tiber, turned into gold by the
sunlight from the setting sun. The masts were visible now.
Lycias gave a sigh of satisfaction as he saw, sitting on a grassy bank
a man and a woman, who was heavily veiled. Standing beside them was a
slender girl. It was Lidia, the daughter of the shepherd, who sprang
forward and put her arms around her father's neck, while great tears
of happiness rolled down her cheeks.
"At last! at last! thou art come. Thanks be to our God."
It had not been a difficult matter for the little scullery-maid to
persuade the lawyer to venture upon a scheme as bold as it was
doubtful in its outcome. Aurelius Lucanus was a broken man. He had
lost his children. He had not known how dear they were to him until
they disappeared. What mattered it if they were followers of
Christians, members of a despised sect? They were his own, and he
loved them. His business was ruined, his home deserted, the emperor no
longer looked on him with favor. All was gone.
In the room near by, Claudia lay weeping. She, too, was broken-hearted.
Her daughter, her ambitions, all those things which formed
her life had vanished as suddenly as the dew dries upon the green
grass in midsummer.
The lawyer was sitting in the garden. Bright yellow and scarlet
dahlias bloomed around him; plumy lavender and rose colored asters
nodded cheerfully in the chill breeze of this first of November. The
water in the fountain rippled as musically as in those happy days, now
gone.
That morning early, Aurelius had gone again to the Senator Adrian
Soderus, to whom Virgilia had so cruelly been betrothed. It was a sign
that no longer was the lawyer held in high esteem, when he was kept
waiting in the outer chamber, and a message was brought him by a young
slave that the Senator could no longer receive him. He would have no
dealings with the parents of Christians.
Then he, too, knew their disgrace. It must have been noised--abroad in
the city. Aurelius hurried home and sitting down where Claudia had
rested, looking so beautiful, on her return from the amphitheatre on
the Spring day which seemed so long ago, he buried his face in his
hands.
An awful fear haunted him. To-day had been fixed for the games. Could
it be possible that Virgilia, so fair, so delicate, shielded all her
life from the rough and hard things, protected and loved, was among
those Christians whom Caesar had, in his cruelty, doomed to death?
And Martius, where was he?
He felt a light touch on his shoulder and looked up with dull eyes,
clouded with misery and loneliness, into the dark, sallow face of the
kitchen-maid, whom he had never noticed before until he saw her
tenderly ministering to his wife.
In a few concise sentences, she told him all.
Virgilia and Martius were to be sacrificed, with hundreds of other
Christians that afternoon. It was known that Octavia, and her children
were also condemned. Lycias, the gladiator, would try to save them.
Perhaps he could succeed; there was a little hope. In any case, he
would try. Aurelius and Claudia, with herself, would go to a quiet
place near the marble quarry, and wait for them. If they did not come,
all was lost, and there remained nothing but to return to this house.
If they came, there was a chance of escape for them all. She told him
of the ship belonging to Alyrus, his porter, now a freedman. It was he
who had wrought the mischief. If possible--God only knew!--they would
all sail away together. Whither, who could tell? Away from Rome, away
from all this trouble and sorrow.
Lidia possessed a lovely voice, thrilling sweet. As she talked, the
lawyer's brain cleared. He was more himself than he had been since the
children had disappeared. Now, he knew the worst. Sometimes certainty,
even though bad, is better than the agony of suspense. There was a
chance, and if they escaped--a thought came to him.
"Thou wilt dress thy Lady."
Lidia nodded.
"And gather together the jewels. Bring the diadem sent by the emperor
to Virgilia and the necklace, the gift of Adrian."
Even in his anguish of soul, the lawyer smiled, grimly. When the
Senator sent to reclaim his valuable gift, he would not find it. At
least, he would have contributed that much to Virgilia's future
happiness. His wealth was so great that he would not miss the game.
"I will gather together all the jewels, my master, also those of the
Lady Claudia, and will hide them in my bosom. No one will imagine that
the kitchen-maid carries such treasures."
"A quick-witted girl," muttered Aurelius, "and now for my part. If the
gods please, they will escape, and we shall be happy again. If
not--then we will never return to this house."
It took him until noon to examine the papers in his strong-box. Three
of the documents he placed in his toga. The others, he burned.
It was a long and difficult matter to bring the Lady Claudia, in her
weakness, to the place agreed upon. Here, they waited, while the sun,
burning hot in Rome even in October, beat upon them pitilessly, for
there was no shade here.
The whole story had not been told Claudia, who was saved that
suffering. She knew, only, that they were to set sail in a ship and
leave this city where she had been so happy. She was utterly
apathetic, caring nothing where they went.
Losing hope, as time passed, Aurelius grew more and more silent. Even
Lidia began to fear that the worst had happened. The sun sank and the
vessels were shrouded in shadow. No sound was heard save the
monotonous singing of a sailor, or the creaking of a sail.
Then around the corner came the forlorn little group, and Lidia threw
herself in her father's arms, while her eyes sought Lycias, who smiled
at her.
The rest was easy. The bronze lizard worked like magic. No one
inquired where was the dark man with the gold rings in his ears. The
vessel had been chartered and paid for by the priest of Jupiter. The
orders were to sail, when the symbol was shown them. As the tide was
high and the wind fresh, the sails were raised and just as the people
were swarming out of the Circus, just when the Emperor in his golden
chair, was being carried to his marble palace, the fugitives, scarcely
knowing where they were and not caring whither they should go, sat on
the deck, breathed in the cool air of life, watched the stars come
out, one by one, and thanked God for delivering them out of the mouth
of the lion.
Day after day they sailed over a blue sea, where the waves danced and
broke into froth, which in its turn, dissolved into a million
jewel-points of colors as brilliant as those flashed by the diamonds
in Virgilia's diadem, the gift of the emperor.
Among the papers brought away by the lawyer was the deed of a small
villa on the Island of Cyprus. It had belonged to his father and a
revenue was received each year from the steward who cultivated the
vineyard.
To Cyprus, the vessel went, landing there a fortnight later, for the
winds had been favorable, and they had made a quick voyage.
On the broad terraces, commanding a view of the sea, with passing
vessels, Claudia lay on a couch, daily gaining strength. She held
Virgilia's hand as if she could never let it go, while the young girl
told her of Jesus and His love, and read to her the precious letter of
Paul, the Apostle, a copy of which Martius had made in the days of his
exile.
Here, they heard of the martyrdom of the Apostle, and his burial in
the vineyard of Lucia, the Roman matron. He had "finished his course"
and "kept the faith," and had gone to receive his "crown of
righteousness."
As the days passed, peace and happiness came to them all. The
gladiator, forgetting his prowess in the arena, worked diligently in
the vineyard, while Lucius guarded the flocks of sheep, grazing
beneath the light-green olive-trees. And Lidia cooked for them in a
small stone cottage, singing as she worked.
Martius and Marcus, grown to be men, worked also, and when the labors
of the day were over, sat on the terrace in the moonlight, while
Hermione and Virgilia talked with them, and Claudia and Octavia smiled
at their happiness.
One thing, they did not know; that Alyrus, the Moor, justly punished
for his misdeeds, never spoke again after the games in the Circus. He
died soon afterward. Sahira, robbed of her freedom by the jealousy of
a woman high in favor in the imperial court, who envied her beauty and
the favor of the emperor, sank again into slavery, and as the years
passed, became a drudge in the palace.
When the sun crept lower to the waves of the sea, and as the darkness
shrouded all nature, young and old knelt on the terrace and prayed
that God would keep them safe.
And Aurelius, the lawyer, with Claudia, his wife, knelt also, for
there were no statues of the gods in this home set among the trailing
festoons of the vineyard on the Island of Cyprus.
[FINIS.]