CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE BETRAYAL--THE PURSUIT.
When the unhappy Isidorus discovered that through his cowardice andtergiversation, and through the confessions extorted from hisdistempered mind, a criminal charge had been trumped up against the fairCallirho[e:], whose beauty and grace had touched his susceptibleimagination, he was almost beside himself with rage and remorse. Heprotested to the Prefect Naso and his disreputable son, Calphurnius,that she was as innocent as an unweaned babe of the monstrous crimealleged against her--that of conspiracy to poison her beloved mistress.
"Accursed be the day," cried the wretched Isidorus, clenching his handstill his nails pierced the flesh, "accursed be the day when I first cameto your horrid den to betray innocent blood. Would I had perished e'erit dawned."
"Hark you, my friend," said Naso, "do you remember by what means youpromised to earn the good red gold with which I bought you?"
"Do not remind me of my shame in becoming a spy upon the Christians,"cried the Greek with a look of self-loathing and abhorrence.
"Nay; 'by becoming one yourself,' that was the phrase as I wrote it onmy tablets," sneered the prefect.
"Would that I could become one!" exclaimed the unhappy man.
"Suppose I take you at your word and believe you are one?" queried Nasowith a malignant leer.
"What new wickedness is this you have in your mind?" asked the Greek.
"How would you like to share the doom of your friends, the old Jew andhis pretty daughter, who are to be thrown to the lions to-day," went onthe remorseless man, toying with his victim like a tiger with its prey.
"Gladly, were I but worthy," said the Greek. "Had I their holy hopes, Iwould rejoice to bear them company."
"But don't you see," said Naso, "a word of mine would send you to thearena, whether you like it or not? Your neck is in the noose, myhandsome youth, and I do not think, with all your dexterity, you canwriggle out of it."
"Oh! any fate but that!" cried the Greek, writhing in anguish. "Let medie as a felon, a conspirator, an assassin, if you will; but not by thedoom of the martyrs."
"Well, you see," went on the prefect, "justice is meted out to theChristians so much more swiftly and certainly than even against theworst of felons, that I am tempted to take this plan to secure you yourdeserts."
The craven-spirited Greek, to whom the very idea of death was torture,blanched with terror and stood speechless, his tongue literally cleavingto the roof of his mouth.
When the prefect perceived that he was sufficiently unnerved for hisfinal experiment he unveiled his diabolical purpose.
"Hark you, my friend," he whispered or rather hissed into his ear, "youmay do the State, yourself, and me a service, that will procure you lifeand liberty and fortune. You know the way to the secret assemblies ofthe accursed Christian sect; lead hither a maniple of soldiers and yourfortune's made."
"Tempter, begone!" exclaimed the Greek in a moment of virtuousindignation, "you would make me worse than Judas whom the Christiansexecrate as the betrayer of his Master whom they worship."
"As you please, my dainty youth," answered Naso, with his characteristicgesture of clutching his sword. "Prepare to feed the lions on themorrow," and he consigned him to a cell in the vaults of the Coliseum.
Very different was the night spent by this craven soul to that of thedestined martyrs. The darkness, to his distempered imagination, seemedfull of accusing eyes, which glared reproach and vengeance upon him. Thehungry lions' roar smote his soul with fearful apprehensions. When thesavage bounds of the wild beasts shook his cell he cowered upon theground, the picture of abject misery and despair.
When by these mental tortures his nerves were all unstrung, the archtempter silently entered his cell and whispered in his ear, "Well, mydainty Greek, are you ready for the games?"
"Save me! save me!" cried the unhappy man, "any death but that! I willdo anything to escape such a fearful doom."
"I thought you would come to terms," replied the prefect, well skilledin the cruel arts of his office. "Life is sweet. Here is gold. By theservice I require you shall earn liberty," and the compact was sealedwhereby the Greek was to betray the subterranean hiding-places of theChristians to their enemies.
Hence it was that at the dead of night, a band of Roman soldiers,reckless ruffians trained to slaughter in many a bloody war, marchedunder cover of darkness along the Appian Way to the villa of the LadyMarcella. It was the work of a moment to force the door of the vineyardand they soon reached the entrance to the Catacomb.
"It is like a badger's burrow," said the officer in command. "We willsoon bag our game, Here the old priest has his lair. Secure him at anycost. He is worth a score of the meaner vermin."
Lighting their torches they inarched on their devious way under theguidance of Isidorus, who had written on a rude chart the number ofturns to be made to the right or left. With Roman military foresight,the officer marked with chalk the route they took, and fixedoccasionally a torch in the niches in the wall.
Soon the soft, low cadence of the funeral hymn was heard, stealingweirdly on the ear, and a faint light glimmered from the chamber inwhich the Christians were paying the last rites to their martyredbrethren.
"They are at their incantations now," said the Centurion. "'Tis a fitplace for their abominable orgies. Let us hasten, and we will spoiltheir wicked spells!" and he gave the command, at which the soldiersrushed forward toward the distant light.
Instantly it disappeared, and when they reached the spot naught wasseen, save the tomb of Adauctus; and in the distant darkness was heardthe sound of hurrying feet.
"The rats have fled," cried the officer; "after them, ferrets! Let notone escape!" and at the head of the maniple he darted down the echoingcorridor.
But Hilarus guided his friends amid the darkness more swiftly than thesoldiers could pursue by the light of their torches. He followed many adevious winding, especially contrived to frustrate capture, andfacilitate escape. Threading a very narrow passage, he drew from a nichea wooden ladder, and placing it against the wall reached a stairwaywhich began high up near the roof. The whole party followed, andHilarus, drawing up the ladder after him, completely cut off pursuit.They soon reached the comparatively lofty vaults of a deserted_arenarium_, or sand pit, which communicated with the open air. As hestood with bared brow beneath the light of the silent stars, the goodPresbyter Primitius devoutly exclaimed:--"_Anima nostra sicut passererepta est de lagueo venantium_--Our soul is escaped as a bird out thesnare of the fowler, the snare is broken and we are escaped."
The writer has not drawn upon his imagination in describing thearrangements for escape made by the persecuted Christians, when takingrefuge in these dens and caves of the earth. In this very Catacomb ofCallixtus, such a secret stairway still exists, and is illustrated bydrawings in his book on this subject. The main entrance was completelyobstructed and the stairway partially destroyed, so as to preventingress to the Catacomb, and a narrow stairway was constructed in theroof which could only be reached by a moveable ladder, connecting itwith the floor. By drawing up this ladder pursuit could be easily cutoff, and escape to a neighbouring _arenarium_ secured. Stores of corn,and oil, and wine have been found in these crypts, evidently as aprovision in time of persecution; frequent wells also occur, amplysufficient for the supply of water; and the multitude of lamps whichhave been found would dispel the darkness, while their sudden extinctionwould prove the best concealment from attack by their enemies. Hence theChristians were stigmatized as a skulking, darkness-loving race,[55] whofled the light of day to burrow like moles in the earth. Theselabyrinths were admirably adapted for eluding pursuit. Familiar withtheir intricacies, and following a well-known clew, the Christian couldplunge fearlessly into the darkness, where his pursuer would soon beinextricably lost.
Such hairbreadth escapes as we have described from the Roman soldiers,like sleuth hounds tracking their prey, must have been no uncommonevents in those troublous times. But sometimes the Christians weres
urprised at their devotions, and their refuge became their sepulchre.Such was the tragic fate of Stephen, slain even while ministering at thealtar; such the event described by Gregory of Tours, when a hecatomb ofvictims were immolated at once by heathen hate; such the peril whichwrung from a stricken heart the cry, not of anger but of grief, recordedon a slab in the Catacombs: _Tempora infausta, quibus inter sacra etvota ne in cavernis quidem salvari possimus!_--"Oh! sad times in which,among sacred rites and prayers, even in caverns, we are not safe." Itrequires no great effort of imagination to conceive of the dangers andescapes which must have been frequent episodes in the heroic lives ofthe early soldiers of the cross.
With what emotions must the primitive believers, seeking refuge in thesecrypts, have held their solemn worship and heard the words of life,surrounded by the dead in Christ! With what power would come thepromise of the resurrection of the body, amid the crumbling relics ofmortality! How fervent their prayers for their companions intribulation, when they themselves stood in jeopardy every hour! Theirholy ambition was to witness a good confession even unto death. Theyburned to emulate the zeal of the martyrs of the faith, the plumelessheroes of a nobler chivalry than that of arms, the Christian athleteswho won in the bloody conflicts of the arena, or amid the fiery torturesof the stake, not a crown of laurel or of bay, but a crown of life,starry and unwithering, that can never pass away. Their humble gravesare grander monuments than the trophied tombs of Rome's proud conquerorsupon the Appian Way. Reverently may we mention their names. Lightly maywe tread beside their ashes.
Though the bodily presence of those conscripts of the tomb no longerwalked among men, their intrepid spirit animated the heart of eachmember of that little community of persecuted Christians, "of whom theworld was not worthy; who wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and indens and caves of the earth, ... being destitute, afflicted,tormented."[56]
FOOTNOTES:
[55] Latebrosa et lucifugax natio. _Minuc. Felix._
[56] Compare the following spirited lines of Bernis:-- "La terre avail gemi sous le fer des tyrans; Elle cachait encore des martyrs expirans, Qui dans les noirs detours des grottes reculees Derobaient aux bourreaux leurs tetes mutilees." _Poeme de la Religion Vengee,_ chap. viii.
Valeria, the Martyr of the Catacombs: A Tale of Early Christian Life in Rome Page 30
