But here, in the dim seclusion of the Catacombs, there was no formal acceptance of a creed—the Christian faith was to the faithful an indwelling reality.
The young deacon who had questioned or catechised the congregation, and instructed them by the familiar form of question and answer, was followed by an older man, a priest, who had been consecrated by the bishop or overseer of that hidden Church in the Catacombs of St. Calixta.
He, too, noticed and welcomed the strangers whom Anna had brought, and Casca, the young Roman, in his new and handsome toga virilis, interested him, and he drew him aside and gave him a roll of manuscript, promising to supply him with others when he returned these.
It was St Paul’s Epistle to the Hebrews, and from the portion which tells of the great cloud of witnesses the priest founded a discourse, or, as we should call it, a sermon. He spoke of the invisible watchers over that hidden Church; many had been sufferers for Christ, and their bodies were lying in niches of those long galleries awaiting the call of their Master, which would be surely heard when He came to claim His own. He spoke of the dangers which surrounded the living, the torture and the flame, the terrible ordeal of fire, or the fierce conflict with the beasts. He described the scene which had been enacted in the Coliseum that very day, and he bade them all remember that their turn might come next.
Were they ready? or would they faint and fail in the trial hour?
They could do all things through Christ, who strengthened them, and he would not allow that one would turn back on the way to win the crown, though the cross might be exceeding bitter and a sore burden.
Prayers followed, and then the little company were bidden to rest till the dawn broke. Just before cock-crow the priest called them to awake and draw near to receive the bread and wine for the refreshing of their souls in remembrance of the sacrifice of Christ. It was the first time that Casca or the young Jewess had ever seen that solemn service. It was familiar to Anna, and her thoughts went back to the forests of Britain and the Radburn cave, where the holy Amphibalus had broken that bread and drunk of that cup, when dangers of every kind were near.
It was no new thing to the British slave to feel that the profession of the Christian faith was the signal of danger. The scenes in the forest, in the dark dungeon, were still as vivid as ever; but Casca had yet to count the cost. The Jewish maiden felt herself drawn to this Christ of whom the priest spoke. The lines round her mouth softened, and tears gathered on her long dark lashes, like rain-drops, and slowly ran down her cheeks.
If only she dare believe that this Jesus of Nazareth was the Messiah for whom her people had looked for so long! but surely He, that long-looked-for King, would come with imperial pomp and greatness; not, as these his followers said, as the child of a humble mother, to die a shameful death, such as malefactors died!
Ah! that death of Christ! therein was hidden the Life, though she knew it not as yet, nor could discern it.