The fury of the first persecution had nearly exhausted itself, and even Nero, that insatiable butcher whose thirst for blood had enkindled the fierce flame, seemed to have well-nigh spent the measure of his inhuman cruelty.
Hiding like criminals in gloomy abodes and obscure retreats, those Christians who had escaped martyrdom seldom ventured forth save when the dusk of evening rendered them less liable to scrutiny or interrogation.
But among the exceptions to this precautionary rule was one, that of a very old, white-haired man, who might be seen at all times in the most public places, and who was well-known to be a fearless and devoted Christian. Indeed, he seemed rather to court danger than avoid it, and it was a marvel to the more timid among his brethren how he had thus far escaped the lion’s jaws or the caldron of boiling oil.
One raw evening in early March, three drunken soldiers were tumbling along a narrow Roman street, lined with small, obscure-looking houses, when a bent figure suddenly issued from one of the low doorways and walked hurriedly in the direction of the Jews’ quarter, not far distant.
“Ho there!” called one of the three, eager for adventure of any kind, “ho there! Who art thou, and whither goest thou?”
The figure paused, and said in reply, “I am an old man, and I go to relieve a fellow-man in distress.”
“Not so fast, not so fast, friend,” retorted the soldier. “In these times, we guardians of the emperor’s peace must be circumspect and vigilant.”
“Ho, ho! It is Andrew, that dog of a Christian who boasteth, I am told, that he is not afraid of our august emperor himself,” said another of the three. “Speak, old man; art thou not a Christian, and brave enough to face thy master, who can, if he so pleases, make a torch of thee to light belated way-farers home?”
“Ay, thou sayest truly, I am a Christian,” replied the old man, folding his arms and standing erect, as he continued: “My name is Andrew; I am well known in the city, and acknowledge no master in the odious tyrant who calls himself Emperor of Rome.”
“Ah! what is this?” said the soldier who had not yet spoken, and who appeared the most sober of the three. “So—so. A traitor and a Christian. There is a double reward set upon thy head, old fellow. Comrades, we would be doing an injustice to the emperor and the state in not apprehending this venomous traitor. Let us away with him to prison, and before this time to-morrow he may know what it is to feel the emperor’s avenging arm.” The old man’s eye brightened, and he would have spoken, but was prevented by him who had first accosted him.