“Because the religion of Isis has never dared to interfere in any way with that of the state. Besides, Isis is Juno; the name makes no difference. The symbol may vary—the essence remains untouched. You know, that even in my own house I have suffered Baucis....”
“Oh! merciful Isis!” cried the old woman in alarm, “am I too to be dragged under the dreadful law? Why, how often have I been to Barbillus? Four, or at most five times—or six or seven....”
“Hold your tongue, and leave us together,” cried the priest angrily. “She is getting silly,” he added, as Baucis vanished among the columns.
“She is growing deaf,” said Claudia in excuse. “Since our return from Baiae, I have had more to put up with every day.”
“You see I can be patient,” Titus Claudius went on, addressing his son. “But in this instance we must take up arms against the attacks of a dangerous foe. The Nazarenes are working underground, day and night, like moles. Their passion for converts amounts to insanity; they are systematically undermining the state and society. I am determined to put a stop to these attacks. If we do not put our veto on them in time, we shall have a common porter on the throne of the Caesars, and all that wear the purple will be put to the sword. Some slave, whose sole employment till now has been to drag dead beasts to be buried, or carry plague-stricken wretches through the streets, will be sacrificing in the Roman Capitol as high-priest to the Nazarene! I know it all full well; there are unmistakable signs in the air. This, my dear Quintus, by the help of the gods, is what we must oppose, and I shall avail myself of the aid of all the terrors of the law. This very day it will be proclaimed to all men, that leniency is at an end: henceforth the punishment for the crime of belonging to the Nazarenes is death by wild beasts in the Arena.”
The blood faded from the young man’s face; his heart stood still. He could not utter a word.
“What is the matter with you?” asked Titus Claudius startled. “You are pale ... trembling....”
“It is nothing,” Quintus said with an effort. “I was only horrified at the severity of the measure. What? The disgraceful death of the vilest criminals ... hideous butchery for the amusement of the mob...? Father, impossible!”
“It is necessary,” replied the Flamen.
“I do not understand you. Is it necessary to punish with death a crime—which to me seems an error indeed, but a pardonable, a noble, a sublime error...? Father, you do not know these persecuted people; you have never studied their doctrine; you cannot imagine how completely you are entangled in delusions about them. The Nazarenes are not rebels; they are quiet, duteous folk, who ask but one thing: to be allowed to worship their God. Their Master himself taught them: ‘To render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.’”