Jovinian: A Story of the Early Days of Papal Rome

by William Henry Giles Kingston

At length the day he was free to depart arrived. Amulius had made all the necessary preparation. Three “petorritas”—the ordinary carriages at that time in use—drawn by mules, arrived at a convenient spot near the entrance to the galleries. Two litters also came—their occupants remaining concealed within. Amulius and several friends, who had come to bid Severus and his family farewell, stepped out of the petorritas. Garments and several necessary articles had been purchased by Amulius for the use of the family, and these were already packed in the carriages. The faithful Rufina was to return to her master, but remained to the last with those whom she had so essentially served. Severus led forth his wife, and Jovinian followed with Julia.

They were about to enter one of the carriages, when Amulius remarked, “We have brought two other travellers who are desirous of accompanying you.” Ongoing to the litters he handed out two females habited in the ordinary dress of Roman ladies.

Jovinian at once recognised in one of them, although their heads were veiled, the vestal Marcia. As those around him were all of the faithful, there was no necessity for concealment.

The other lady was introduced by Marcia,—she was Coelia, whose life she had been the means of preserving. Marcia now explained that she and another vestal, who had also become a Christian, and was particularly attached to Coelia, had been placed by Fausta in charge of the prisoner, and that, having taken her place, she had allowed her to escape, aided by Christian friends, who had been watching outside the temple. They were under the guidance of Eros—he having, with the ever-active Rufina, been the means of perfecting the plan for her release. “The unhappy Vestalis Maxima,” she added, “when on her return to the temple she discovered that so many of those under her rule had become Christians that the sacred fire itself had been allowed to go out, and that even Coecus, as she supposed, had deserted the ancient faith, stabbed herself in despair.”

Just as Jovinian was stepping into the petorrita he found his hand grasped. Looking up, he saw Eros.

“I am to accompany you with the other runners on foot,” he said, “and I have a favour to ask: it is that you will entreat Severus to allow me to go with you, for Rome is no place for me, and I will gladly serve him faithfully without wages.”

Jovinian willingly promised to do what Eros desired, feeling sure that the request would not be refused.

The direct road to the port of Rome was about sixteen miles; but as a considerable circuit would have to be made, it would occupy a large portion of the day. The friends, therefore, who had come out of Rome, returned, and the travelling party set out. The first part of the journey was by by-paths, and being somewhat rough, the mules could only proceed at a slow rate. When once the high road was gained they were able to move much faster. It was well paved with slabs skilfully joined, which formed a smooth stony surface, enabling the wheels of the vehicles to run easily along. Here and there villas were seen, the inhabitants of which were still wrapt in slumber.

The travellers—although their equipages were simple—were received with respect at the inns where they stopped to rest their mules or partake of refreshment. They selected those whose hosts were Christians, and who welcomed them as brethren. Ostia was inhabited by a considerable number of Christians, engaged in commercial pursuits, and who had collected there from various parts of the world. The church of Ostia, said to have been formed in the days of the apostle Paul, was presided over by an aged bishop, with several presbyters and deacons. That it was of great antiquity was certain, as the apostle, while remaining at the port, when either embarking or landing on his journeys to and from Rome, would undoubtedly have gained many proselytes to the faith.

Jovinian passed his time happily in company with Julia, to whom he was attached with all the strength of his ardent nature. Notwithstanding his present happiness, he did not feel altogether secure while remaining in the neighbourhood of Rome. His uncle Gaius, who possessed, he believed, a legal claim over him, might discover his retreat, and prevent him from quitting the country. About Eros he had no fear, for having been once set free, the emancipated slave could not again legally be forced back into captivity, Eros himself, however, was not quite so well satisfied about the matter, and had, with the permission of the master of the Dolphin, gone on board, and obtained concealment in the hold. It might have been wise in Jovinian to have followed his example—at all events to have lived on board the vessel until his friends were ready to embark. Instead of that he went everywhere about the town with them, and attended public worship. They were to go on board early in the morning, and to sail as soon as the tide was high enough to enable the Dolphin to cross over the bar. Many of the principal Christians in Ostia accompanied the party down to the place of embarkation, where a boat was waiting to convey them on board the Dolphin, which lay with her sails loose out in the stream.