CHAPTER 10.
THE RIFT IN THE WALL.
When Ulpius suddenly departed from Numerian's house on the morning ofthe siege, it was with no distinct intention of betaking himself to anyparticular place, or devoting himself to any immediate employment. Itwas to give vent to his joy--to the ecstacy that now filled his heartto bursting--that he sought the open streets. His whole moral beingwas exalted by that overwhelming sense of triumph, which urges thephysical nature into action. He hurried into the free air, as a childruns on a bright day in the wide fields; his delight was too wild toexpand under a roof; his excess of bliss swelled irrepressibly beyondall artificial limits of space.
The Goths were in sight! A few hours more, and their scaling ladderswould be planted against the walls. On a city so weakly guarded asRome, their assault must be almost instantaneously successful.Thirsting for plunder, they would descend in infuriated multitudes onthe defenceless streets. Christians though they were, the restraintsof religion would, in that moment of fierce triumph, be powerless withsuch a nation of marauders against the temptations to pillage.Churches would be ravaged and destroyed; priests would be murdered inattempting the defence of their ecclesiastical treasures; fire andsword would waste to its remotest confines the stronghold ofChristianity, and overwhelm in death and oblivion the boldest ofChristianity's devotees! Then, when the hurricane of ruin and crime hadpassed over the city, when a new people were ripe for anothergovernment and another religion--then would be the time to invest thebanished gods of old Rome with their former rule; to bid the survivorsof the stricken multitude remember the judgment that their apostacy totheir ancient faith had demanded and incurred; to strike the veryremembrance of the Cross out of the memory of man; and to reinstatePaganism on her throne of sacrifices, and under her roof of gold, morepowerful from her past persecutions; more universal in her suddenrestoration, than in all the glories of her ancient rule!
Such thoughts as these passed through the Pagan's toiling mind as,unobservant of all outward events, he paced through the streets of thebeleaguered city. Already he beheld the array of the Goths preparingthe way, as the unconscious pioneers of the returning gods, for themarch of that mighty revolution which he was determined to lead. Thewarmth of his past eloquence, the glow of his old courage, thrilledthrough his heart, as he figured to himself the prospect that wouldsoon stretch before him--a city laid waste, a people terrified, agovernment distracted, a religion destroyed. Then, arising amid thisdarkness and ruin; amid this solitude, desolation, and decay, it wouldbe his glorious privilege to summon an unfaithful people to return tothe mistress of their ancient love; to rise from prostration beneath adismantled Church; and to seek prosperity in temples repeopled and atshrines restored!
All remembrance of late events now entirely vanished from his mind.Numerian, Vetranio, Antonina, they were all forgotten in this memorableadvent of the Goths! His slavery in the mines, his last visit toAlexandria, his earlier wanderings--even these, so present to hismemory until the morning of the siege, were swept from its very surfacenow. Age, solitude, infirmity--hitherto the mournful sensations whichwere proofs to him that he still continued to exist--suddenly vanishedfrom his perceptions, as things that were not; and now at length heforgot that he was an outcast, and remembered triumphantly that he wasstill a priest. He felt animated by the same hopes, elevated by thesame aspirations, as in those early days when he had harangued thewavering Pagans in the Temple, and first plotted the overthrow of theChristian Church.
It was a terrible and warning proof of the omnipotent influence that asingle idea may exercise over a whole life, to see that old manwandering among the crowds around him, still enslaved, after years ofsuffering and solitude, degradation, and crime, by the same rulingambition, which had crushed the promise of his early youth! It was anawful testimony to the eternal and mysterious nature of thought, tobehold that wasted and weakened frame; and then to observe how theunassailable mind within still swayed the wreck of body yet left toit--how faithfully the last exhausted resources of failing vigourrallied into action at its fierce command--how quickly, at its mockingvoice, the sunken eye lightened again with a gleam of hope, and thepale, thin lips parted mechanically with an exulting smile!
The hours passed, but he still walked on--whither or among whom heneither knew nor cared. No remorse touched his heart for thedestruction that he had wreaked on the Christian who had sheltered him;no terror appalled his soul at the contemplation of the miseries thathe believed to be in preparation for the city from the enemy at itsgates. The end that had hallowed to him the long series of his formeroffences and former sufferings, now obliterated iniquities just passed,and stripped of all their horrors, atrocities immediately to come.
The Goths might be destroyers to others, but they were benefactors tohim; for they were harbingers of the ruin which would be the materialof his reform, and the source of his triumph. It never entered hisimagination that, as an inhabitant of Rome, he shared the approachingperils of the citizens, and in the moment of the assault might sharetheir doom. He beheld only the new and gorgeous prospect that war andrapine were opening before him. He thought only of the time that mustelapse ere his new efforts could be commenced--of the orders of thepeople among whom he should successively make his voice heard--of thetemples which he should select for restoration--of the quarter of Romewhich should first be chosen for the reception of his daring reform.
At length he paused; his exhausted energies yielded under the exertionsimposed on them, and obliged him to bethink himself of refreshment andrepose. It was now noon. The course of his wanderings had insensiblyconducted him again to the precincts of his old, familiardwelling-place; he found himself at the back of the Pincian Mount, andonly separated by a strip of uneven woody ground, from the base of thecity wall. The place was very solitary. It was divided from thestreets and mansions above by thick groves and extensive gardens, whichstretched along the undulating descent of the hill. A short distanceto the westward lay the Pincian Gate, but an abrupt turn in the walland some olive trees which grew near it, shut out all view of objectsin that direction. On the other side, towards the eastward, theramparts were discernible, running in a straight line of some length,until they suddenly turned inwards at a right angle and were concealedfrom further observation by the walls of a distant palace and the pinetrees of a public garden. The only living figure discernible near thislonely spot, was that of a sentinel, who occasionally passed over theramparts above, which--situated as they were between two stations ofsoldiery, one at the Pincian Gate and the other where the wall made theangle already described--were untenanted, save by the guard within thelimits of whose watch they happened to be placed. Here, for a shortspace of time, the Pagan rested his weary frame, and aroused himselfinsensibly from the enthralling meditations which had hitherto blindedhim to the troubled aspect of the world around him.
He now for the first time heard on all sides distinctly, the confusednoises which still rose from every quarter of Rome. The same incessantstrife of struggling voices and hurrying footsteps, which had caughthis ear in the early morning, attracted his attention now; but noshrieks of distress, no clash of weapons, no shouts of fury anddefiance, were mingled with them; although, as he perceived by theposition of the sun, the day had sufficiently advanced to have broughtthe Gothic army long since to the foot of the walls. What could be thecause of this delay in the assault; of this ominous tranquillity on theramparts above him? Had the impetuosity of the Goths suddenly vanishedat the sight of Rome? Had negotiations for peace been organised withthe first appearance of the invaders? He listened again. No soundscaught his ear differing in character from those he had just heard.Though besieged, the city was evidently--from some mysteriouscause--not even threatened by an assault.
Suddenly there appeared from a little pathway near him, which led roundthe base of the wall, a woman preceded by a child, who called to herimpatiently, as he ran on, 'Hasten, mother, hasten! There is no crowdhere. Yonder is the Gate.
We shall have a noble view of the Goths!'
There was something in the address of the child to the woman that gaveUlpius a suspicion, even then, of the discovery that flushed upon himsoon after. He rose and followed them. They passed onward by thewall, through the olive trees beyond, and then gained the open spacebefore the Pincian Gate. Here a great concourse of people hadassembled, and were suffered, in their proper turn, to ascend theramparts in divisions, by some soldiers who guarded the steps by whichthey were approached. After a short delay, Ulpius and those around himwere permitted to gratify their curiosity, as others had done beforethem. They mounted the walls, and beheld, stretched over the groundwithin and beyond the suburbs, the vast circumference of the Gothiclines.
Terrible and almost sublime as was the prospect of that immensemultitude, seen under the brilliant illumination of the noontide sun,it was not impressive enough to silence the turbulent loquacity rootedin the dispositions of the people of Rome. Men, women, and children,all made their noisy and conflicting observations on the sight beforethem, in every variety of tone, from the tremulous accents of terror,to the loud vociferations of bravado.
Some spoke boastfully of the achievements that would be performed bythe Romans, when their expected auxiliaries arrived from Ravenna.Others foreboded, in undissembled terror, an assault under cover of thenight. Here, a group abused, in low confidential tones, the policy ofthe government in its relations with the Goths. There, a company ofragged vagabonds amused themselves by pompously confiding to each othertheir positive conviction, that at that very moment the barbarians mustbe trembling in their camp, at the mere sight of the all-powerfulCapital of the World. In one direction, people were heard noisilyspeculating whether the Goths would be driven from the walls by thesoldiers of Rome, or be honoured by an invitation to conclude a peacewith the august Empire, which they had so treasonably ventured toinvade. In another, the more sober and reputable among the spectatorsaudibly expressed their apprehensions of starvation, dishonour, anddefeat, should the authorities of the city be foolhardy enough toventure a resistance to Alaric and his barbarian hosts. But wide aswas the difference of the particular opinions hazarded among thecitizens, they all agreed in one unavoidable conviction, that Rome hadescaped the immediate horrors of an assault, to be threatened--ifunaided by the legions at Ravenna--by the prospective miseries of ablockade.
Amid the confusion of voices around him, that word 'blockade' alonereached the Pagan's ear. It brought with it a flood of emotions thatoverwhelmed him. All that he saw, all that he heard, connected itselfimperceptibly with that expression. A sudden darkness, neither to bedissipated nor escaped, seemed to obscure his faculties in an instant.He struggled mechanically through the crowd, descended the steps of theramparts, and returned to the solitary spot where he had first beheldthe woman and the child.
The city was blockaded! The Goths were bent then, on obtaining a peaceand not on achieving a conquest! The city was blockaded! It was noerror of the ignorant multitude--he had seen with his own eyes thetents and positions of the enemy, he had heard the soldiers on the walldiscoursing on the admirable disposition of Alaric's forces, on theimpossibility of obtaining the smallest communication with thesurrounding country, on the vigilant watch that had been set over thenavigation of the Tiber. There was no doubt on the matter--thebarbarians had determined on a blockade!
There was even less uncertainty upon the results which would beproduced by this unimaginable policy of the Goths--the city would besaved! Rome had not scrupled in former years to purchase thewithdrawal of all enemies from her distant provinces; and now that thevery centre of her glory, the very pinnacle of her declining power, wasthreatened with sudden and unexpected ruin, she would lavish on theGoths the treasures of the whole empire, to bribe them to peace and totempt them to retreat. The Senate might possibly delay the necessaryconcessions, from hopes of assistance that would never be realised; butsooner or later the hour of negotiation would arrive; northern rapacitywould be satisfied with southern wealth; and in the very moment when itseemed inevitable, the ruin from which the Pagan revolution was toderive its vigorous source, would be diverted from the churches of Rome.
Could the old renown of the Roman name have retained so much of itsancient influence as to daunt the hardy Goths, after they had sosuccessfully penetrated the empire as to have reached the walls of itsvaunted capital? Could Alaric have conceived so exaggerated an idea ofthe strength of the forces in the city as to despair, with all hismultitudes, of storming it with success? It could not be otherwise! Noother consideration could have induced the barbarian general to abandonsuch an achievement as the destruction of Rome. With the chance of anassault the prospects of Paganism had brightened--with the certainty ofa blockade, they sunk immediately into disheartening gloom!
Filled with these thoughts, Ulpius paced backwards and forwards in hissolitary retreat, utterly abandoned by the exaltation of feeling whichhad restored to his faculties in the morning, the long-lost vigour oftheir former youth. Once more, he experienced the infirmities of hisage; once more he remembered the miseries that had made his existenceone unending martyrdom; once more he felt the presence of his ambitionwithin him, like a judgment that he was doomed to welcome, like a cursethat he was created to cherish. To say that his sensations at thismoment were those of the culprit who hears the order for his executionwhen he had been assured of a reprieve, is to convey but a faint ideaof the fierce emotions of rage, grief, and despair, that now united torend the Pagan's heart.
Overpowered with weariness both of body and mind, he flung himself downunder the shade of some bushes that clothed the base of the wall abovehim. As he lay there--so still in his heavy lassitude that life itselfseemed to have left him--one of the long green lizards, common toItaly, crawled over his shoulder. He seized the animal--doubtful forthe moment whether it might not be of the poisonous species--andexamined it. At the first glance he discovered that it was of theharmless order of its race, and would have flung it carelessly fromhim, but for something in its appearance which, in the waywardirritability of his present mood, he felt a strange and sudden pleasurein contemplating.
Through its exquisitely marked and transparent skin he could perceivethe action of the creature's heart, and saw that it was beatingviolently, in the agony of fear caused to the animal by itsimprisonment in his hand. As he looked on it, and thought howcontinually a being so timid must be thwarted in its humble anxieties,in its small efforts, in its little journeys from one patch of grass toanother, by a hundred obstacles, which, trifles though they might be toanimals of a higher species, were yet of fatal importance to creaturesconstituted like itself, he began to find an imperfect, yet remarkableanalogy between his own destiny and that of this small unit ofcreation. He felt that, in its petty sphere, the short life of thehumble animal before him must have been the prey of crosses anddisappointments, as serious to it, as the more severed and destructiveafflictions of which he, in his existence, had been the victim; and, ashe watched the shadow-like movement of the little fluttering heart ofthe lizard, he experienced a cruel pleasure in perceiving that therewere other beings in the creation, even down to the most insignificant,who inherited a part of his misery, and suffered a portion of hisdespair.
Ere long, however, his emotions took a sterner and a darker hue. Thesight of the animal wearied him, and he flung it contemptuously aside.It disappeared in the direction of the ramparts; and almost at the samemoment he heard a slight sound, resembling the falling of severalminute particles of brick or light stone, which seemed to come from thewall behind him.
That such a noise should proceed from so massive a structure appearedunaccountable. He rose, and, parting the bushes before him, advancedclose to the surface of the lofty wall. To his astonishment, he foundthat the brickwork had in many places so completely mouldered away,that he could move it easily with his fingers. The cause of thetrifling noise that he had heard was now fully explained: hundreds oflizards had made their homes between
the fissures of the bricks; theanimal that he had permitted to escape had taken refuge in one of thesecavities, and in the hurry of its flight had detached several of theloose crumbling fragments that surrounded its hiding-place.
Not content, however, with the discovery he had already made, heretired a little, and, looking stedfastly up through some trees whichin this particular place grew at the foot of the wall, he saw that itssurface was pierced in many places by great irregular rifts, some ofwhich extended nearly to its whole height. In addition to this, heperceived that the mass of the structure at one particular point,leaned considerably out of the perpendicular. Astounded at what hebeheld, he took a stick from the ground, and inserting it in one of thelowest and smallest of the cracks, easily succeeded in forcing itentirely into the wall, part of which seemed to be hollow, and partcomposed of the same rotten brickwork which had at first attracted hisattention.
It was now evident that the whole structure, over a breadth of severalyards, had been either weakly and carelessly built, or had at someformer period suffered a sudden and violent shock. He left the stick inthe wall to mark the place; and was about to retire, when he heard thefootstep of the sentinel on the rampart immediately above. Suddenlycautious, though from what motive he would have been at that momenthardly able to explain, he remained in the concealment of the trees andbushes, until the guard had passed onward; then he cautiously emergedfrom the place; and, retiring to some distance, fell into a train ofearnest and absorbing thought.
To account to the reader for the phenomenon which now engrossed thePagan's attention, it will be necessary to make a brief digression tothe history of the walls of Rome.
The circumference of the first fortifications of the city, built byRomulus, was thirteen miles. The greater part, however, of this largearea was occupied by fields and gardens, which it was the object of thefounder of the empire to preserve for arable purposes, from theincursions of the different enemies by whom he was threatened fromwithout. As Rome gradually increased in size, its walls wereprogressively enlarged and altered by subsequent rulers. But it wasnot until the reign of the Emperor Aurelian (A.D. 270), that anyextraordinary or important change was effected in the defences of thecity. That potentate commenced the erection of walls, twenty-one milesin circumference, which were finally completed in the reign of Probus(A.D. 276), were restored by Belisarius (A.D. 537), and are to be seenin detached portions, in the fortifications of the modern city, to thepresent day.
At the date of our story, then (A.D. 408), the walls remained preciselyas they had been constructed in the reigns of Aurelian and Probus.They were for the most part made of brick; and in a few places,probably, a sort of soft sandstone might have been added to thepervading material. At several points in their circumference, andparticularly in the part behind the Pincian Hill, these walls werebuilt in arches, forming deep recesses, and occasionally disposed indouble rows. The method of building employed in their erection, wasgenerally that mentioned by Vitruvius, in whose time it originated, as'opus reticulatum'.
The 'opus reticulatum' was composed of small bricks (or stones) settogether on their angles, instead of horizontally, and giving thesurface of a wall the appearance of a sort of solid network. This wasconsidered by some architects of antiquity a perishable mode ofconstruction; and Vitruvius asserts that some buildings where he hadseen it used, had fallen down. From the imperfect specimens of itwhich remain in modern times, it would be difficult to decide upon itsmerits. That it was assuredly insufficient to support the weight of thebank of the Pincian Mount, which rose immediately behind it, in thesolitary spot described some pages back, is still made evident by theappearance of the wall at that part of the city, which remains inmodern times bent out of the perpendicular, and cracked in some placesalmost from top to bottom. This ruin is now known to the present raceof Italians, under the expressive title of 'Il Muro Torto' or, TheCrooked Wall.
We may here observe that it is extremely improbable that the existenceof this natural breach in the fortifications of Rome was noticed, or ifnoticed, regarded with the slightest anxiety or attention by themajority of the careless and indolent inhabitants, at the period of thepresent romance. It is supposed to have been visible as early as thetime of Aurelian, but is only particularly mentioned by Procopius, anhistorian of the sixth century, who relates that Belisarius, instrengthening the city against a siege of the Goths, attempted torepair this weak point in the wall, but was hindered in his intendedlabour by the devout populace, who declared that it was under thepeculiar protection of St. Peter, and that it would be consequentlyimpious to meddle with it. The general submitted without remonstranceto the decision of the inhabitants, and found no cause afterwards torepent of his facility of compliance; for, to use the translated wordsof the writer above-mentioned, 'During the siege neither the enemy northe Romans regarded this place.' It is to be supposed that soextraordinary an event as this, gave the wall that sacred character,which deterred subsequent rulers from attempting its repair; whichpermitted it to remain crooked and rent through the convulsions of themiddle ages; and which still preserves it, to attest the veracity ofhistorians, by appealing to the antiquarian curiosity of the travellerof modern times.
We now return to Ulpius. It is a peculiarity observable in thecharacters of men living under the ascendancy of one ruling idea, thatthey intuitively distort whatever attracts their attention in the outerworld, into a connection more or less intimate with the single objectof their mental contemplation. Since the time when he had been exiledfrom the Temple, the Pagan's faculties had, unconsciously to himself,acted solely in reference to the daring design which it was thebusiness of his whole existence to entertain. Influenced, therefore,by this obliquity of moral feeling, he had scarcely reflected on thediscovery that he had just made at the base of the city wall, ere hismind instantly reverted to the ambitious meditations which had occupiedit in the morning; and the next moment, the first dawning conception ofa bold and perilous project began to absorb his restless thoughts.
He reflected on the peculiarities and position of the wall before him.Although the widest and most important of the rents which he hadobserved in it, existed too near the rampart to be reached without theassistance of a ladder, there were others as low as the ground, whichhe knew, by the result of the trial he had already made, might besuccessfully and immensely widened by the most ordinary exertion andperseverance. The interior of the wall, if judged by the condition ofthe surface, could offer no insuperable obstacles to an attempt atpenetration so partial as to be limited to a height and width of a fewfeet. The ramparts, from their position between two guard-houses,would be unencumbered by an inquisitive populace. The sentinel, withinthe limits of whose allotted watch it happened to fall, would, whennight came on, be the only human being likely to pass the spot; and atsuch an hour his attention must necessarily be fixed--in thecircumstances under which the city was now placed--on the prospectbeyond, rather than on the ground below and behind him. It seemed,therefore, almost a matter of certainty, that a cautious man, labouringunder cover of the night, might pursue whatever investigations hepleased at the base of the wall.
He examined the ground where he now stood. Nothing could be morelonely than its present appearance. The private gardens on the hillabove it shut out all communication from that quarter. It could onlybe approached by the foot-path that ran round the Pincian Mount, andalong the base of the walls. In the state of affairs now existing inthe city, it was not probable that any one would seek this solitaryplace, whence nothing could be seen, and where little could be heard,in preference to mixing with the spirit-stirring confusion in thestreets, or observing the Gothic encampment from such positions on theramparts as were easily attainable to all. In addition to the secresyoffered by the loneliness of this patch of ground to whateveremployments were undertaken on it, was the further advantage affordedby the trees and thickets which covered its lower end, and which wouldeffectually screen an intruder, during the darkness of night, from themost
penetrating observation directed from the wall above.
Reflecting thus, he doubted not that a cunning and determined man mightwith impunity so far widen any one of the inferior breaches in thelower part of the wall as to make a cavity (large enough to admit ahuman figure) that should pierce to its outer surface, and afford thatliberty of departing from the city and penetrating the Gothic campwhich the closed gates now denied to all the inhabitants alike. Todiscover the practicability of such an attempt as this was, to a mindfilled with such aspirations as the Pagan's, to determine irrevocablyon its immediate execution. He resolved as soon as night approached tobegin his labours on the wall; to seek--if the breach were made good,and the darkness favoured him--the tent of Alaric; and once arrivedthere, to acquaint the Gothic King with the weakness of the materialsfor defence within the city, and dilapidated condition of thefortifications below the Pincian Mount, insisting, as the condition ofhis treachery, on an assurance from the barbarian leader (which hedoubted not would be gladly and instantly accorded) of the destructionof the Christian churches, the pillage of the Christian possessions,and the massacre of the Christian priests.
He retired cautiously from the lonely place that had now become thecentre of his new hopes; and entering the streets of the city,proceeded to provide himself with an instrument that would facilitatehis approaching labours, and food that would give him strength toprosecute his intended efforts, unthreatened by the hindrance offatigue. As he thought on the daring treachery of his project, hismorning's exultation began to return to him again. All his previousattempts to organise the restoration of Paganism sunk into suddeninsignificance before his present design. His defence of the Temple ofSerapis, his conspiracy at Alexandria, his intrigue with Vetranio, werethe efforts of a man; but this projected destruction of the priests,the churches, and the treasures of a whole city, through the agency ofa mighty army, moved by the unaided machinations of a singleindividual, would be the dazzling achievement of a god!
The hours loitered slowly onward. The sun waned in the gorgeousheaven, and set, surrounded by red and murky clouds. Then came silenceand darkness. The Gothic watch-fires flamed one by one into the duskyair. The guards were doubled at the different posts. The populace weredriven from the ramparts, and the fortifications of the great cityechoed to no sound now but the tramp of the restless sentinel, or theclash of arms from the distant guard-houses that dotted the long lineof the lofty walls.
It was then that Ulpius, passing cautiously along the least-frequentedstreets, gained unnoticed the place of his destination. A thick vapourlay over the lonely and marshy spot. Nothing was now visible from itbut the dim, uncertain outline of the palaces above, and the mass, sosunk in obscurity that it looked like a dark layer of mist itself, ofthe rifted fortifications. A smile of exultation passed over thePagan's countenance, as he perceived the shrouding and welcomethickness of the atmosphere. Groping his way softly through thethickets, he arrived at the base of the wall. For some time he passedslowly along it, feeling the width of the different rents wherever hecould stretch his hand. At length he paused at one more extensive thanthe rest, drew from its concealment in his garments a thick bar of ironsharpened at one end, and began to labour at the breach.
Chance had led him to the place best adapted to his purpose. Theground he stood on was only encumbered close to the wall by rank weedsand low thickets, and was principally composed of damp, soft turf. Thebricks, therefore, as he carefully detached them, made no greater noisein falling than the slight rustling caused by their sudden contact withthe boughs through which they descended. Insignificant as this soundwas, it aroused the apprehension of the wary Pagan. He laid down hisiron bar, and removed the thickets by dragging them up, or breakingthem at the roots, until he had cleared a space of some feet in extentbefore the base of the wall. He then returned to his toilsome task,and with hands bleeding from the wounds inflicted by the thorns he hadgrasped in removing the thickets continued his labour at thebrick-work. He pursued his employment with perfect impunity; thedarkness covered him from observation; no one disturbed him byapproaching the solitary scene of his operations; and of the twosentinels who were placed near the part of the wall which was thecentre of all his exertions, one remained motionless at the mostdistant extremity of his post, and the other paced restlessly backwardsand forwards on the rampart, singing a wild, rambling song about war,and women, and wine, which, whatever liberty it might allow to hisorgans of perception, effectually hindered the vigilant exercise of hisfaculties of hearing.
Brick after brick yielded to the vigorous and well-timed efforts ofUlpius. He had already made a cavity, in an oblique direction, largeenough to creep through, and was preparing to penetrate still further,when a portion of the rotten material of the interior of the wallsuddenly yielded in a mass to a chance pressure of his iron bar, andslowly sunk down inwards into a bed which, judging by such faint soundsas were audible at the moment, must have been partly water, and partlymarshy earth and rotten brick-work. After having first listened, to besure that the slight noise caused by this event had not reached theears or excited the suspicions of the careless sentinels, Ulpius creptinto the cavity he had made, groping his way with his bar, until hereached the brink of a chasm, the depth of which he could not probe,and the breadth of which he could not ascertain.
He lingered irresolute; the darkness around him was impenetrable; hecould feel toads and noisome animals crawling over his limbs. The dampatmosphere of the place began to thrill through him to his very bones;his whole frame trembled under the excess of his past exertions.Without light, he could neither attempt to proceed, nor hope todiscover the size and extent of the chasm which he had partially laidopen. The mist was fast vanishing as the night advanced: it wasnecessary to arrive at a resolution ere it would be too late.
He crept out of the cavity. Just as he had gained the open air, thesentinel halted over the very spot where the Pagan stood, and pausedsuddenly in his song. There was an instant's interval of silence,during which the inmost soul of Ulpius quailed beneath an apprehensionas vivid, as that which had throbbed in the heart of the despisedlizard, whose flight had guided him to his discovery at the wall.Soon, however, he heard the voice of the soldier calling cheerfully tohis fellow sentinel, 'Comrade, do you see the moon? She is rising tocheer our watch!'
Nothing had been discovered!--he was still safe! But if he stayed atthe cavity till the mists faded before the moonlight, could he becertain of preserving his security? He felt that he could not!
What mattered a night more or a night less, to such a project as his?Months might elapse before the Goths retired from the walls. It wasbetter to suffer delay than to risk discovery. He determined to leavethe place, and to return on the following night provided with alantern, the light of which he would conceal until he entered thecavity. Once there, it could not be perceived by the sentinelsabove--it would guide him through all obstacles, preserve him throughall dangers. Massive as it was, he felt convinced that the interior ofthe wall was in as ruinous a condition as the outside. Caution andperseverance were sufficient of themselves to insure to his efforts thespeediest and completest success.
He waited until the sentinel had again betaken himself to the furthestlimits of his watch, and then softly gathering up the brushwood thatlay round him, he concealed with it the mouth of the cavity in theouter wall, and the fragments of brick-work that had fallen on the turfbeneath. This done, he again listened, to assure himself that he hadbeen unobserved; then, stepping with the utmost caution, he departed bythe path that led round the slope of the Pincian Hill.
'Strength--patience--and to-morrow night!' muttered the Pagan tohimself, as he entered the streets, and congregated once more with thecitizens of Rome.