“To-morrow there is to be an exhibition of crucified Christians, but perhaps rain will prevent it.”
Then he drew nearer and said, touching his nephew’s shoulder,—“But thou wilt not see her on the cross; thou wilt see her only in Corioli. By Castor! I would not give the moment in which we free her for all the gems in Rome. The evening is near.”
In truth the evening was near, and darkness began to encircle the city earlier than usual because clouds covered the whole horizon. With the coming of night heavy rain fell, which turned into steam on the stones warmed by the heat of the day, and filled the streets of the city with mist. After that came a lull, then brief violent showers.
“Let us hurry!” said Vinicius at last; “they may carry bodies from the prison earlier because of the storm.”
“It is time!” said Petronius.
And taking Gallic mantles with hoods, they passed through the garden door to the street. Petronius had armed himself with a short Roman knife called sicca, which he took always during night trips.
The city was empty because of the storm. From time to time lightning rent the clouds, illuminating with its glare the fresh walls of houses newly built or in process of building and the wet flag-stones with which the streets were paved. At last a flash came, when they saw, after a rather long road, the mound on which stood the small temple of Libitina, and at the foot of the mound a group of mules and horses.
“Niger!” called Vinicius, in a low voice.
“I am here, lord,” said a voice in the rain.
“Is everything ready?”