“Nay,” Casca said, “you misjudge me, Claudius. I would that thou were to accompany me to Rome, and then I could take heart, but as it is——”
“As it is, you must be like a man, and determine to win good opinions and make a name; fight for Rome if so it be ordered, and end at last in continuing the noble race to which you belong, and then——”
“Ah!” said Casca, “and then die, and be remembered no more. Claudius, I think often of all the great dead, the old Greeks, their brave soldiers, their wise philosophers, Socrates and Plato, Aristides and Themistocles. Their poets and their heroes, all alike gone—gone as the man yesterday went on the hill-top—gone, and whither? If it be true that there is another life, what is that life? I torture myself with questions, and I know that if I were led out to die as Alban was, I should shiver and tremble, aye, and pray for mercy. While he—there was light in his eye, there was a ring of victory in his voice, and no wonder that the executioner refused to perform his office, and died with Alban rather than see him die by his hand. I say, there must be something grand and noble in the faith which can give a man courage not only to meet death, but to welcome it, to court it, and to see beyond it, instead of darkness, light.”
“Yes,” said Claudius, “but remember, my good Casca, that thousands of Romans, tens of thousands of Greeks, aye, and of our own poor Britons also, have met death as bravely as this man Alban did. There is a difference in our bodies—thine and mine, to wit”—and Claudius stretched out his young, muscular arm, bronzed and bare, from under the loose sleeve of his toga virilis, which was indeed a contrast to the white, slender arm of his companion. “There is a difference, my good Casca, in the make and build of men, aye, and of women too, and it is the same with their natures. Some are brave as lions, others as timid as sheep. Christian or Roman, Greek or Briton, it is the same.”
“No,” said Casca, starting up, “but it is not all the same. Poor Ebba was as timid and shy as any sheep, and yet she has gone to meet death, for I feel sure they will track her out. May I be gone hence ere that time comes! But I say it is something more than what we call nature, which is at work with those who meet death as Alban did.”
“Hist! good Casca, be not too free with thy tongue, or it may bring trouble. Keep thy thoughts to thyself; even now I fancy I see the curtain moving. But I must away; I have to practise in the course, and I have to attend my father to a trial of strength in the circus, where he is to bestow a prize on the swiftest runner and strongest arm in throwing the quoit. Vale! good Casca, and pluck up thy courage.” Claudius sprang lightly from the couch, swept the curtain aside, and disappeared.
In the gallery, which I have before described, at the top of the villa, he found Hyacintha. She was looking out over the country, as she had looked with Ebba two days before. When Claudius stood by her side she raised her pure, sweet eyes to his, and said, “I have been here whilst thou hast been talking to Casca. I wanted to speak to you, so I waited here. I am only a child, and I scarcely know which way I should turn to find the good and forsake the evil, but this I know, Ebba was good—faithful and good—and I dread lest she should be cruelly killed. Claudius,” the child continued, pleading with her eyes as with her voice, “Claudius, will you try to save her if by any means she falls in your way? If the Christians are found out she will be found with them. Do your utmost to save her life, my noble, good Ebba.”
“Beautiful Hyacintha,” Claudius said, “I would serve you to my last breath. Yes, I swear if I can find any trace of Ebba, I will strive to save her life and put her in a place of safety till the storm has passed over.”
“They have been talking of getting her head, and that of Amphibalus, the man Alban hid in his house, and they have missed another woman, who was aunt or mother to the soldier who would not kill Alban. There is a boy who dresses the flowers and shrubs in the atrium, and he has told me that it is said in Verulam that the Christians have hidden themselves not far off, and a watch is set on the hills to hinder their escape to Wales. That is what is said. I know not if it be true.”
“True or false, I will obey thy bidding. Say, Hyacintha, what shall we do without thee.”