“How long is it,” said I, “since this venerable magistrate died? Surely she has allowed him the decency of a tenmonth’s grief, before she began to give suppers, and perceive the beauty of Sextus?” “Whether it be a tenmonth ago or not,” replied the Centurion, “is more than I can take upon me to decide; all I know is, that it appears to me as if it were but yesterday that I supped here, (it was just before I set off for Britain,) and saw the young lady reclining, even at table, with those long black curls of her’s, in the bosom of the emaciated Leberinus. By Jupiter! the old man would not taste a drop of wine unless she kissed the cup—she coaxed every morsel he swallowed down his throat, and clasped the garland round his bald pate with her own fingers; ay, twice before that sleek physician—that solemn-faced Greek, whom you see at this moment talking with your kinsman, advised her to have him carried to his bed. For all the gravity of his looks, I would lay a trifle, that worthy Bœotian has his own thoughts about what is passing, as well as I. But the worst-pleased face in the whole room is, I think, that of old Rubellius himself yonder, who has just come in, without, it is evident, being aware that any feast was going forward. Without question, the crafty usurer is of opinion he might have been invited. I promise you, I can interpret the glances of that gray-headed extortioner; and well I may, for it is not the first time I have had an opportunity of studying them. Ay, ay, quoth he to himself, she may do as she will with the bonds of Leberinus; but she might have remembered, that a codicil can be easily tacked to the end of a living man’s testament.”
“But, after all,” said I, “one must admit, that if she married old Leberinus to please her father, the widow has some right to choose her second husband according to the pattern of her own fancy.” “Oh! by all means,” answered he; “let her please herself; let her make a fool of herself now, if she will. She may perhaps learn, some time or other, that it is as possible to have too young a husband, as to have too old a one.” “Come now,” said I, “Sabinus, confess that if she had selected some well-made, middle-aged man—some respectable man—some man of note and distinction, you would have judged less harshly of poor Rubellia.” “Ah! you cunning dog,” said he; “who would have thought that you had brought so much wickedness from that new world of yours? But do you really think she will wed Sextus? The boy appears strangely cold. I should not wonder, when all is done, if the match were more of the orator’s seeking than his own.” “I can only tell you,” said I, “that I have never heard Licinius mention any thing about it; and, I dare say, Sextus would be very sorry to think of losing his liberty for the sake of the wealth of Leberinus—ay, or for that of old Rubellius to boot.” “Young friend,” quoth he, “you are not quite acquainted with the way in which these matters are managed at Rome. If we had you six weeks at the other side of the Viminal, we should teach you better.”
I know not how long this sort of talk might have lasted; but Licinius put an end to it by joining us, and soon engaged the worthy Centurion, and several more of us, with some lively, but unintelligible discussion on the merits of some new edict, of which none of us had [pg 64]ever heard, or were likely ever to hear any thing again. We were glad to escape from the lawyer into another room, where some Greek slaves were performing a sort of comic pantomime, that appeared to give more delight to old Rubellius than any other of the spectators. As for Sextus, I saw plainly that he was quite weary of the entertainment, and anxious to get away; but we were obliged to remain till after Licinius was gone, for it was evident that he wished his son to see out the last. But no sooner had we heard his chariot drive off, than the young man and I took leave of the lady, and withdrew. Sabinus lingered a moment behind us, and then joined us in the vestibule, from which, his course lying so far in the same direction as ours, we all proceeded homewards on foot.
We had proceeded along the street of the Suburra for a considerable space, and were already beneath the shade of the great Temple of Isis and Serapis, (which stands on the northern side of the Esquiline Hill, nigh over against the Amphitheatre of Vespasian,) when, from the opposite side of the way, we were hailed by a small party of soldiers, who, as it turned out, had been sent from the Prætorian camp in search of Sabinus, and one of whom had now recognized his gait and stature, notwithstanding the obscurity of the hour. The Centurion went aside with the leader of these men for some moments, and then informed us that it was very fortunate they had so easily recognized him, as the business on which they had been sent was such as did not admit of being negligently dealt with. “To-morrow,” said he, pointing to the Amphitheatre before us, “that glorious edifice is to be the scene of one of the grandest shows [pg 65]exhibited by Trajan since his accession to the empire. It is the anniversary of the day on which he was adopted by Nerva, and the splendour of the spectacle will be in proportion to the gratitude and veneration with which he at all times regards the memory of that excellent benefactor. But there are some parts of the exhibition that I am afraid old Nerva, could he be present to behold them, would not regard with the same feelings as his successor.” “Surely,” said I, “the beneficent Trajan will not stain the expression of his gratitude by any thing unworthy of himself, or that could give displeasure to Nerva?” “Nay,” replied the Centurion, “it is not for me to talk about any thing that Trajan chooses to do being unworthy of Trajan; but you well know that Nerva would never suffer any of the Christians to be molested during his reign, and now here are some of these unhappy fanatics, that are to be compelled either to renounce their faith in the face of the assembly to-morrow, or to die in the arena. It is to inspect the condition of these unfortunates, who, I know not for what reason, are confined in a dungeon below the ramparts in the vicinity of our camp, and to announce to them the final determination of their fate, that I, as Centurion of the night, have now been summoned. If you are curious to see the men, you are at liberty to go with me, and I shall be obliged to you for your company.”
My curiosity having been excited in regard to the new faith and its adherents, I was very desirous to accept of this offer. Nor did Sextus any sooner perceive that such was my inclination, than he advised me to gratify it, undertaking, at the same time, to satisfy his father, in [pg 66]case of any inquiry, that I was in a place of safety, and under the protection of Sabinus. With him, therefore, and with his Prætorians, I proceeded along various streets which led us by the skirts of the Esquiline and Viminal Hills, on to the region of the Mounds of Tarquin, over against which, as you have heard, the great camp of those bands is situated;—if indeed that ought of right to be called by the name of a camp, which is itself a city of no slender dimensions, and built with great splendour of architecture, spread out beyond the limits of Rome, for the accommodation of that proud soldiery. There my friend took me into his chamber, and furnished me with a cloak and helmet, that I might excite no suspicion by accompanying him on his errand. The watch-word of the night also was given me, Silent faith; and proceeding again, we shortly reached the place where the Christians were lying.
CHAPTER VIII.
Entering the guard-room, we found it crowded with spearmen of Sabinus’s band, some playing at dice, others carousing jovially, many wrapt up in their mantles, and asleep upon the floor; while a few only were sitting beneath the porch, with their spears in their hands, and leaning upon their bucklers. From one of these, the Centurion, having drawn him aside, made inquiry concerning the names and condition of the prisoners, and whether as yet they had received any intelligence as to the morrow. The soldier, who was a grave man, well stricken in years, made answer, “that the men were free-born and of decent estate, and that he had not heard of any thing else being laid to their charge, excepting that which concerned their religion. Since they have been here,” he continued, “I have been several times set on watch over them, and twice have I lain with one of them in his dungeon; yet have I heard no complaints from any of them, for in all things they are patient. One of them only is to suffer to-morrow—but for him I am especially concerned, for he was known to me of old, having served often with me when I was a horseman in the army of Titus, all through the war of Palestine, and at the siege of Jerusalem.”
“And of what country is he?” said Sabinus. “Is he also a Roman?” “No, sir,” answered the spearman, “he is no Roman; but he was of a troop of the allies that was joined often to our legion, and I have seen him bear himself on the day of battle as well as any Roman. He is by birth a Greek of the Syrian coast; but his mother was of the nation of the Jews.” “And yet, although the son of a Jewess, he was with us, say you, at the siege of Jerusalem?” “Even so,” replied the man; “and not he only, but many others; for the Jews were divided against themselves; and of all them that were Christians, not one abode in the city, or gave help to defend it. As this man himself said, the oracles of the Christians, and their prophets, had of old given warning that the city must fall into the hands of Cæsar, by reason of the wickedness of that people; therefore, when we set our camp against Jerusalem, these all passed out from the city, with their wives and children, and dwelt safely in the mountainous country until the fate was fulfilled. But some of their young men fought in our camp, and did good service, because the place was known to them, and they had acquaintance with all the secrets of the Rock. Of these, this man was one. He and all his household had departed from the ancient religion of the Jews, and were believers in the doctrines of the Christians, for which cause he is now to suffer; and of that, although I have not spoken to him this evening, I think he has already received some intelligence, for certain of his friends passed in to him, and they covered their faces as they went in, as if weeping.” “Are these friends still with him?” said Sabinus. “Yes,” answered he, “for I must have seen them had [pg 69]they come forth again. Without doubt, the two women are still with him in his dungeon.” “Women?” quoth Sabinus; “and of what condition think you they may be?” “That I know not,” replied the soldier; “for, as I have said, they were muffled in their mantles. But one of them, at least, is a Roman, for I heard her speak to him that is by the door of the dungeon.” “How long is it,” said the Centurion, “since they went in to the prisoner?” “More than an hour,” replied the soldier, looking at the water-clock that stood beneath the porch; “and if they be Christians, they are not yet about to depart, for they never separate without singing together, which is said to be their favourite manner of worship.”