“I did it,” said the deacon. Again he looked about him, but saw none to support him.
“Then,” said the magistrate, “we shall at once conclude this matter. The outrage is too gross to be condoned or lightly punished. Even thy friends and kinsfolk have not appeared to speak for thee. Thy family has been one of dignity and authority in Nemausus. There have been members who have been clothed with the Quatuorvirate de aerario and have been accorded the use of a horse at public charge. Several have been decurions wearing the white toga and the purple stripe. This aggravates the impiety of your act. I sentence Cneius Falerius Marcianus, son of Marius Audolatius, of the Voltinian tribe, to be thrown to the beasts in the approaching show, and that his goods be confiscated, and that out of his property restitution be made, by which a new statue to the god Nemausus be provided, to be set up in the place of that injured by the same Cneius Falerius Marcianus.”
The deacon made an attempt to speak. He seemed overwhelmed with astonishment and dismay at the sentence, so utterly unexpected in its severity. He gesticulated and cried out, but the Quatuorvir was cold and weary. He had pronounced a sentence that would startle all the town, and he thought he had done enough.
“Remove him at once,” said he.
Then Petronius turned to the pontiff and said: “Now, my Smerius, what say you to this? Will not this content you and all the noisy rag-tag at your back?”
Next he commanded the rest of the prisoners to be brought forward together. This was a mixed number of poor persons, some women, some old men, boys, slaves and freedmen; none belonged to the upper class or even to that of the manufacturers and tradesmen.
“You are all dismissed,” said the magistrate. “The imprisonment you have undergone will serve as a warning to you not to associate with image-breakers, not to enter into sodalities which have not received the sanction of Cæsar, and which are not compatible with the well-being and quiet of the city and are an element of disturbance in the empire. Let [pg 241]us hear no more of this pestilent nonsense. Go—worship what god ye will—only not Christos.”
Then the lictors gathered around the Quatuorvir and the pontiff, who also rose, and extended his hand to assist the magistrate, who made wry faces as rheumatic twinges nipped his back.
“Come with me, Smerius,” said the Quatuorvir, “I have done the best for you that lay in my power. I hate unnecessary harshness. But this fellow, Falerius Marcianus, has deserved the worst. If the old woman be put on the rack and squeak out, and Marcianus be devoured by beasts, the people will have their amusement, and none can say that I have acted with excessive rigor—and, my dear man—not a word has been said about Christianity. The cases have been tried on other counts, do you see?” he winked. “Will you breakfast with me? There are mullets from the Satera, stewed in white wine—confound those octopi!—I feel them still.”