CHAPTER XII.
The commander of the imperial guard, with a few officers and soldiers,received Quintus as he slowly went out through the heavy stone gate-wayinto the street, but his silent greeting was not altogether free fromembarrassment. During the last few days events had occurred, whichhad thrown the worthy soldier off his balance. The intrigues of acourt, with their underhand and mysterious details, were foreign tohis nature. Out in the field, with the Dacian foe in front of him, hecould avail himself of the ruses of war and the arts of strategy; butin peace, in the capital of the empire, this mode of action revoltedand puzzled him. Such a measure as the wholesale arrest of senatorsand knights had never been adopted before, even under Domitian. And nowthis mysterious discovery of Quintus Claudius in the catacomb with theNazarenes! Norbanus was wholly at a loss how to account for it. Thehigh-priest had given him a very superficial and hasty explanation, andthe whole thing might be either the device of some mortal enemy, or theresult of some outrageous whim. Norbanus had long known the young man'sspirit and daring, though under different circumstances. A man, whocould address a love-song to a vestal virgin, would be quite capableof playing the part of an adherent of the Nazarenes, particularly ifamong them there bloomed some rose of Palestine, whose beauty wouldsuffer no drawback from the superstition of her people. To be sure--asthey came out, the father and son together--their faces were too paleand grave for so light a matter. The worthy warrior had a grave feelingthat, whatever had happened, he had not the key of the riddle and wouldbe sure to say the wrong thing, so he wrapped himself in a dignifiedand significant silence, which each might interpret just as he pleasedor as the case required. Quintus understood it to mean kindly sympathyand due considerateness, the Flamen took it for horror and disapproval,the tribunes and centurions attributed it to military severity anddiscipline.
They took the shortest way to the high-priest's residence--along thefoot of the Capitoline and across the Forum. The people crowded roundthem from all sides, for the rumor of Quintus' arrest had long sincespread into the remotest quarters of the city. Now, every one wanted tosee the illustrious father, who had been to fetch his son out of thedepths of the Tullianum. The little procession could hardly get along.Even the lictor, who marched before the high-priest and the soldiersof the guard were powerless. A hundred voices at once shouted theircomments on the unwonted sight.
"He plotted against the Caesar's life," said a rough voice in thebackground.
"Nonsense--he is one of Caesar's friends."
"He was in the quarry with the Nazarenes."
"He kissed the cross."
"He is condemned to death."
"It was his own father that made the law."
"But see; it is his father, who is setting him at liberty."
"That is just the way of the world."
"True enough. Laws are only made for slaves and beggars! They takethings easier at home."
The last words were spoken under the very nose of the high-priest,so that he could not help hearing them. An angry glow flushed hisface, and with a scornful curl of his lip he looked round. He seemedas though he would speak, but he checked himself in time. A smileof supreme contempt parted his haughty lips; then he said aloud toNorbanus:
"You are too considerate, and the people too bold. Your men should usetheir arms."
The general looked at him in astonishment.
"To be sure," Titus Claudius added more mildly, "we might have foreseenthis crowd. Such a sight is ambrosia to the mob."
They were nearly ten minutes reaching the Flamen's house. Norbanusand one of the officers went in with them to the rooms adjoining theperistyle; the rest remained till farther orders in a room opening outof the atrium.
When Quintus had washed and put on a clean dress he went, stillaccompanied by Norbanus and his centurion, into his father's study,where the family had assembled. Quintus wondered to find his motherso calm, comparatively speaking. He did not know, with what enormouseffort of self-command Titus Claudius had represented the catastropheas a trifling mistake, a mere misunderstanding. Lucilia was a gooddeal excited; the exceptional and startling character of the eventgave her fancy much to busy it. She would have given the world to talkover the occurrences of the last few days with Fabulla, the wise oldmother of her friend Cneius Afranius; but now, in all this confusion,an expedition to Ostia was quite out of the question. So she must thinkit all over to herself alone, particularly as Claudia had shut herselfup in unapproachable reserve, and had no answer for any questionsbut "Yes" and "No." Even now, when her brother came into the room,Claudia was very chary of her words, in marked contrast to Lucilia.And yet Quintus was obscurely conscious, that she took the situationmore gravely and seriously than either Octavia or the excited Lucilia.And, in fact, Claudia knew her brother too well, not to feel surethat something deeper was at work here than a mere foolish adventure.The audacity of wild spirits craves a public; its extravagant flightsare displayed to those who are like-minded, and who will applaud andadmire. But when a man like Quintus had carried out a plan in secretand among such unfamiliar companions, it could be no jesting matter.
During an hour which he spent with his family, Quintus himself wasfor the most part silent. Seated in a deep easy-chair, he eat asmall breakfast which Lucilia brought to him. The Flamen meanwhileexerted himself to explain to the party, what steps he had taken towin Caesar's favor and clemency for his son, and what the ceremonialsacrifice, which Quintus was to offer, must consist in.
The more the father talked, the more the son's heart was wrung. Hemight be absolutely convinced of all he so vehemently uttered; toQuintus it was all a foul lie, a ridiculous and cowardly subterfuge.It was a lie, to say that mere boyish curiosity had led him to assistat a meeting of the Nazarenes; it was a lie, that intriguing knaveshad taken advantage of his curiosity under false pretences. It was alie, that the Nazarenes had plotted to overthrow the whole fabric ofRoman society, that they had fanned his ambition after befooling him,that they had abused his good nature. It was above all a lie, to saythat he bitterly repented of ever having had anything to do with theNazarenes, and only longed to purge himself publicly of the disgrace ofthat contact. Why was it so impossible to convince the priest--usuallyso calm, clear-sighted, and just--of the error of his prejudice? Whyhad he so resolutedly closed his eyes and heart to the truth?
The burden of this question, and all the false aspects of his position,almost crushed the young man to the earth. He returned to the roomwhich had been his till he quitted his father's house, as dull andindifferent as if he were only half-witted. This room was a pleasingcounterpart to Claudia's pretty room, and, like it, was on the upperfloor, and on the same side of the house. The furniture was still as hehad left it. Even some of his first books, his playthings as a boy,and other such memorials of the happy past had found an abiding placehere, so that--as Octavia said--the son might always recognize his oldhome in his parents' house. Lately, no doubt, the quiet nook had formonths together never been visited but by the slaves, who came to dustit and shake up the pillows on the divans.
Quintus thanked the captain of the guard for his considerate treatment,and begged to be allowed to be alone. Norbanus, who regarded his watchover the young man as a mere formality, acceded with pleasure. Heposted a centurion at the entrance with three men-at-arms, recommendedthe utmost courtesy to their prisoner, pressed the young man's handwith a jesting farewell, and left the house, as urgent businessrequired his presence at the palace.
Now, at last, Quintus realized his position. All that he had gonethrough and done during the last few hours had gone over his head,as it were, not more than half understood. He had walked on like asomnambulist over heights and hollows, without appreciating the danger,and now, waking suddenly, he shuddered to see precipices and yawninggulfs on every side. Wherever he looked, horror stared him in theface--misery, shame, dishonor, and despair. Either way his fate washopeless. Either he must shatter the existence of the man he loved morethan him
self--or he must be that mean and cowardly thing, a traitorand a renegade, trailing all he held most sacred in the dust. Had notthe Master of Nazareth taught, that no man could have any part in theinfinite mercies of God, who fell away from the faith through fear ofmen? And was it not this which was driving him into denial--base fearof men? It wore, to be sure, the specious aspect, the garb of lightof filial love. But ought not the true heir of the Faith patientlyto take upon him even that fearful grief? Did not Jesus die on thecross, although he knew that he was breaking his parents' hearts?Aye, He had done this thing, the Just one, the Mighty, Omnipotent;but he--Quintus--was but a feeble and worthless disciple of the GreatTeacher. He could not do it, though the joys of heaven and the tormentsof hell were in the balance. He must lose his soul to all eternity--ifonly he might spare his father.
It was a terrible day that he spent, surrounded by all the treasuredrelics of his unclouded childhood. Titus Claudius came to visit him,to thank him for his filial obedience, and to assure him once more,that his father's heart had forgiven and forgotten all that had passed.Quintus was incapable of responding to all his loving words, spoken ina voice that trembled with agitation, excepting by sighs and silentsigns of consent and submission. In all this Titus Claudius readremorseful distress, and did his utmost to encourage him and raise hisspirit; but presently, seeing that his efforts were vain, he left hisson to himself again, in the hope that solitude and a night's restwould restore his agitated soul.
But he was mistaken; Quintus did not close his eyes all night. Fromtime to time he fancied he heard the voice of old Calenus, reproachinghim with his base apostasy. Then, tortured with horror, he sprang fromhis bed. He compared the night he had passed in the Tullianum with thispresent night under his father's roof. There--a squalid cell, withdeath under the clutches of wild beasts an almost absolute certainty.Here--a pretty, comfortable room with freedom ere long, happinessfor his family, and all the joys of life for himself. And yet hisstorm-tossed heart had yesterday been at peace, while to-day it waswrung with incessant and unutterable anguish--"Blind fool!"--he seemedto hear the words spoken--"You think you are sacrificing only your ownsoul. But are you not also betraying and imperilling, so far as in youlies, the whole glorious work of the Master? If all were to act as youhave done, where would the sublime idea be, which brought light and joyto the crucified Saviour: the Redemption, to wit, of mankind? Have youany right to sacrifice the salvation of millions, merely to spare yourfather--however much you may love him--a transient sorrow, which mayeven lead him too to the light of truth?"
He thought that Calenus was standing by his bedside, and laid his handon his forehead. "Take courage!" said the blind man solemnly, "by God'shelp all--all--all may be overcome."
Again Quintus sat up terror-stricken. It was but a dream with his eyesopen--a vision, but how vivid! He had plainly felt the pressure of ahand on his brow, and seen the prophet-like face, with its calm, holy,celestial gaze.
At last morning broke. The slaves came to help him to dress. He felt asif he were being dragged to execution, but he unresistingly submittedto all his father commanded.
The sun was rising over the Esquiline, when the father and son, infestal dress, went out of the house. Norbanus was on the spot, anda large party of clients and friends. The Forum and the adjoiningstreets swarmed with spectators, notwithstanding the early hour.The recantation was the great event of the day. The supreme councilof the Pontifices[95]--at the head of which sat Caesar as PontifexMaximus--had agreed, in consideration of the distinguished meritsof Titus Claudius, that the sacred ceremony should be one with thedaily public sacrifice offered by the Flamen Dialis, and that Quintusshould be held justified and free from all suspicion of Christianproclivities, if he would, after his father and in unison with thehigh-priest's clients and friends, distinctly offer up a prayer toJupiter, the almighty and all-merciful, calling down vengeance anddestruction on all the foes of the State, and especially on the vileand reprobate sect of the Nazarenes. All this Titus Claudius hadhastily explained to his son, adding that everything else was a merematter of course.
The solemn procession made its way up the broad steps to the Capitol.Quintus was suffocating, a weight lay on his breast like a tombstone.Once or twice he stood still, his knees trembled and he could hardlystand. Norbanus, who was walking by his side, had to support him.
At the top Quintus involuntarily looked round him. His eye gazed overthe heads of the crowd in the Forum, past the Flavian Amphitheatre,out to the Via Appia. There, to the left, hardly distinguishable inthe distance, was the wood, in whose calm retreat salvation had beenopened to him--and now?
"Proceed--why do you hesitate?" said his father in his ear; and onthey went to the temple. Here again a crowd, half curious and halfreverent, had followed them and filled the vast hall. The altar of thepatron divinity of the city was decked and wreathed with consecratedplants and costly streamers, ready for the sacred ceremony. A heraldnow proclaimed silence,[96] and not a murmur was heard. Two of thetemple-servants led in the beasts for sacrifice, covered with garlands,while a third made a mixture of wine, spring-water, incense, andcones[97] with which to dedicate them.
The high-priest took his place in front of the altar; he was as pale asdeath. Raising his hands, he spoke in a deep voice, audible in everycorner:
"Jupiter, the merciful and mighty one! Save and defend this city, thatthou hast made great!"
"Defend this city, that thou hast made great!" echoed from the chorus;and Quintus too moved his lips in a faint whisper.
"Blast the foes of the Roman name with the lightnings of thy wrath!"Titus Claudius went on, and again the choir repeated the words.
"More especially destroy all reprobates and traitors, who hoist thestandard of superstition and plot the ruin of society. Crush the foulbrood of rebellious Nazarenes!"
"No--a thousand times no!" shouted a voice of thunder, that echoedfrom the stone walls. "Tear me in pieces, but spare me so base a lie!"
Titus Claudius staggered; he had to support himself by clinging to thealtar.
"My son, my son, what have you done?" he muttered in a husky voice.
"What I had to do," cried Quintus vehemently. "Lead me back to my cell,kill me--I die a Nazarene!"
An unexampled tumult arose on this unexpected incident. Titus Claudius,with a faint scream, sank senseless into the arms of a temple-servant.The mob, who took up the young man's words as a note of defiance,forgot all the respect due to the sanctuary, and pressed forward,shouting for prompt vengeance. Indeed any faith in the doctrines of theState religion survived in very few, it was Roman arrogance, which hadtaken the place of the old Roman pride, which demanded its rights. Thecrime, that Quintus had now committed, was contempt of the majesty ofthe people, an insult to the Roman name--a crime a thousand times moreunpardonable than the folly of those poor wretches, who gathered in acatacomb to worship in secret round the cross. Norbanus tried in vainto restore order; even his nearest allies seemed paralyzed and helpless.
Suddenly the voice of the Flamen was heard once more; he had recoveredhis self-possession, and was standing in an imperious attitude beforethe altar.
"Stand back!" he exclaimed, clenching his fist over the heads of themob as though he wielded the bolts of Jove. "What do you want? Whatdo you fear? The law is immutable. Centurions of the guard, do yourduty, as I do mine. Away with the Nazarene! Take him back to prison!And you, noisy simpletons, meditate in devout silence, till the priestshall have ended his sacred office."
A death-like stillness responded to this address. No one stirred;neither of the centurions ventured to obey the Flamen's orders.
"Why do you delay?" said Quintus to Norbanus. "The ground here burnsunder my feet. Take me away!"
Norbanus and his subalterns quitted the temple with a saddened mien;Quintus walked slowly in their midst. Once he turned, and in a tone ofanguish said:
"Father--farewell!"
"You no longer have a father," said the high-priest averting his eyes,and he at once
began the interrupted prayer and performed the serviceand sacrifice to the end.
FOOTNOTES:
[95] THE SUPREME COUNCIL OF THE PONTIFICES. The pontifices were a college of priests, that superintended the affairs of religion and worship on behalf of the government. Under Sulla they numbered fifteen; the emperors increased or diminished them according to their good pleasure. The chief of the pontifices, the _Pontifex Maximus_, was at the head of the college. Under the emperors the head of the government _eo ipso_ was also _Pontifex Maximus_. The oversight of the manner of worship was the special duty of the pontifices.
[96] A HERALD NOW PROCLAIMED SILENCE. The herald (_praeco_) was in the habit of shouting to the crowd: "_Favete linguis!_"
[97] A MIXTURE OF WINE, SPRING-WATER, INCENSE, AND CONES. The libation with which the victim was consecrated to death was called _immolatio_.