Valerius. A Roman Story

by J. G. Lockhart

  _CHAPTER VIII._

  My fatigue brought speedy sleep; and so profound, that before I againunclosed my eyes, the calm sea was already purple below me, and the sunabout to set. But neither purple sea, nor golden sky, nor all the divinetranquillity of the evening air, could sooth my mind into repose, after Ihad once awaked to a sense of the situation into which I had beenbrought--I should say rather of the situation in which Athanasia wasplaced. For myself, I could not in seriousness fear any calamity worthy ofthe name,--if such should come, it must be my business to wrestle with itas I might. But to think of her, young, beautiful, innocent; and of all towhich she might be exposed amidst the rude hands in which I had left her!

  Some time had passed before my attention was attracted by a conversationcarried on in the chamber below me, in which you will not be surprisedthat I should have felt myself interested, even although the distance wassuch that I could not distinguish one word that was said. I knew from thefirst moment that it was impossible I should be mistaken--I was perfectlycertain it was Sabinus himself, who was talking with the old woman; and Iat once suspected that the worthy Centurion, having learned from thesoldiers who carried me off, to what place they had conveyed me, hadundertaken this speedy journey, for the purpose of comforting me in myconfinement. The kindness with which he had treated me from the beginningof our acquaintance had been such, that I could have no occasion to wonderat his exerting himself to discover me; but I confess this alacrity wasmore than I had been prepared for, and I waited only for the moment whenhe should enter my apartment to throw myself upon his bosom, and intrustall my troubles to him, as to a friend and a brother. There was something,however, which I could not at all comprehend in the merriment which seemedto be reigning below on his arrival. Peals of female laughter interruptedthe uniform hearty tone of the Centurion's voice; and the feeble treble ofthe old Warder himself was stretched ever and anon in attempt at achuckle.

  At last in they came, and Sabinus, embracing me affectionately, thrustinto my hand a piece of parchment, which I perceived to be nothing lessthan an order for my immediate release. Then taking off his riding-cap,and rubbing with his handkerchief his most audacious and soldier-lookingbrows, "My dear boy," quoth he, "I see you are going to thank me--but woundnot modesty by fine speeches. There was war before Helen--have a bettercare another time, and don't pay Rome such a poor compliment, as to saythat you can find nobody to charm you but a Christian damsel, and no placefor flirtation but a gloomy tomb lined with urns and lachrymatories. Myhonest friend here was quite frightened with the idea of having such anunbelieving reprobate as they said you were, under the same roof with herchildren. But now her fears are dispelled, for good souls are alwaystolerant to the little vagaries of young blood; so thank your hostess, mylad, kiss her hand, take one cup to the hearth of the old tower, andtighten your girdle."

  "Well!" quoth the woman; "who should have thought when the soldiersbrought him in with such mystery, that it was all for kissing bymoonlight! I protest to Venus, they would have made me believe he had beencaught eating an infant; but still I cannot quite pardon him. Well--well--wemust e'en take good hope he will mend ere he dies."

  "Die?" cried the Centurion; "do you talk of dying to one that has scarcelyyet begun to live!--Come, come, Caius, I hope, after all, you may never getinto a worse scrape."

  "And if I do," said I, "I hope I shall always be equally fortunate in myjailers."

  "By the beard of Jove!" quoth Sabinus, "it needs no great skill to seethat you have been fortunate in that respect. I swear that, if the truthwere known, you are almost as unwilling to leave this tower now, as youwere last night to be torn away from another."

  "Oh, Master Kaeso," quoth she again, "when will you have done with yourjoking? Well, your father loved a jest in his time himself; but now he, Isuppose, is quiet enough. And he, good old man, how does he wear?--Can hestill sit in his porch of a fine morning, and listen to the news, as heused to do, with his cup at his knee?"

  "I trust the old grasshopper can still chirp when the sun shines. But totell you the truth, it is long since I have seen him; and if this youngblade has no objection, I mean to pay him a visit this very night. I amonly just come home from Britain, and have not yet had leisure to salutemy Lares."

  I said something about being anxious to return as soon as possible toRome; but the Centurion answered me with another shout, "Come, come; she'ssafe enough. I suppose you think every one gets out of jail as easily asyourself."

  I found it was out of the question to disapprove of any of the schemes ofSabinus; so, having saluted the hostess, and flung my purse to herchildren, (who, by the way, still regarded me with looks of apprehension,)I accompanied him with a good grace to the gate. I made inquiry before Iwent forth concerning the old jailer likewise; but I could easily gatherfrom the expression of face with which his wife accompanied her indistinctreply, that he had, long before that time, reached a state in which shefelt little desire to exhibit him. The Centurion whistled as he steppedacross the threshold, and there forthwith drew near a soldier, wearing thePraetorian helmet, (now sufficiently familiar to my sight,) and leading inhis hand three horses. In the rear, I recognized, not withoutsatisfaction, the busy countenance of my friend Dromo, whose ass did notappear quite so eager to join the party as its rider. A few sturdy thumps,however, at last brought the Cretan close to us, who saluted me with greatappearance of joy, and then whispered into my ear, "Great Jove! we mustkeep silence for the present. What a story I have to tell; and I supposethere is one to hear likewise--but all in good season. We must not cracknuts before monkeys. I have a letter for you," he added, "from Sextus, andanother from Licinius."

  The Centurion sprung on his trusty war-horse, who seemed to rejoice in thefeeling of his weight; and we were soon in motion. I asked no questionseither about the course or distance, but rode by his side so silently,that he bestowed on me many good-natured rebukes, for suffering a littleaffair of love to distress me so greatly. "Cheer up now," quoth he, "anddo not make me repent of carrying you to my father's house, by shewing theold man, who has had enough of troubles, such a countenance as must makehim think of Orcus, even although he did not know himself to be near itsgates. It is more than a year since I have seen him."

  This sort of speech he repeated so often, that I thought the best waywould be to tell him frankly the true history of the adventure, from whoseimmediate consequences he had delivered me. I told him, therefore, everything about both Tisias and Athanasia, and, indeed, kept nothing from himin the whole matter, except only what referred to the impression made onmy own mind by what I had read of the Christian book,--for, as to thissubject, it was one which I totally despaired of being able to make him inany measure comprehend,--and besides, the state of my own mind was still souncertain in regard to it, and my information so imperfect, that I couldnot trust myself with speaking of it to any one, until I should have hadleisure for more both of reading and of reflection.

  He preserved silence for some minutes, and then said, "In truth, Caius,you have distressed me. I thought it was merely some little frolic born ofan hour, to be forgotten in a day; but I cannot refuse you my sympathy.Would I had more to offer!"--"Dear Sabinus," said I, "I know not how tothank you. You saw me but a few days ago the merriest young fellow thatever trod the pavement of Rome--happy in the moments that passed, and fullof glad hopes for all that were to come; but now I feel myself quitechanged. Almost I wish I had never left my British fields; and yet Ishould never have seen Athanasia."--"Poor fellow!" quoth he, laying hishand on the mane of my horse, "I perceive there is, indeed, no trifling inyour case. Compose yourself; whatever chances there may be in your favourwill never be bettered by despondence." He paused a little, andproceeded--"The worst of the whole is this new bitterness against theseChristians. Except during Nerva's time, there was always some punishmentto be feared by them, in case of being detected; but there was a way ofmanaging things in almost every case, and people were well enough disposedto grant
immunities which were always attended with some good to the Fisk.Nero and Domitian, to be sure, acted otherwise--but these were madmen; andeven they did so only by fits and starts. But now, when a prince likeTrajan has taken up the matter, it is no wonder that one should considerit more seriously. One cannot help fancying he must have had some goodreason before he began--that is one thing; and having once begun, he is notthe man to drop it lightly--which is a more weighty consideration. Do youthink there is positively no chance of her giving up this dream, when shefinds what it has exposed her to?"

  "No," said I; "I am sure she will not, nor can I wish it would beotherwise with her."

  "Well," he resumed, "I enter into your feelings so far, my friend, even onthat point. I cannot imagine you to have been so deeply smitten with agirl of a flighty unsteady character. But then this is not a case to bejudged of on common principles. It is no light thing to be exposed to suchexaminations as are now set afoot for these people; and if she behavesherself so resolutely as you seem to expect, what is the end of it? Iconsider it highly probable--for there is no friendship in uncandidspeaking--that, in spite of all her friends can do, they will banish her atthe very least; scarcely dare I speak of it, but even worse thanbanishment has heretofore befallen Romans--ay, Roman ladies too,--and theseas high in birth and place as Athanasia."

  "My dear Sabinus," said I, "do not imagine that now for the first time allthese things are suggested to me. Imagine rather, how, unable for a momentto expel them from my mind, I have spent these miserable hours. Herfriends, too, what must not be their alarm!"

  "The thing was so done," quoth the Centurion, "that I think it isimpossible it should have made much noise as yet. If there was in thefamily no suspicion that the lady had any connection with these people,they must be in perfect perplexity. I lay my life they take it for grantedshe has had some private intrigue, and has gone off with her lover."

  "Alas!" said I, "when they hear the truth, it will be still worse thanthis in their eyes. Yet it appears fit that no time should be lost inmaking them acquainted with the real state of the case. O Sabinus, Iforesee that in all these things I shall have need of your counsel andyour help."

  "You shall have them both, my dear boy," said he,--"you shall have themboth to the uttermost. But there is no question at all about the proprietyof telling the relations all you know. Licinius is probably wellacquainted with them. I am almost sorry for having prevented yourimmediate return to the city; and yet one night will soon be over."

  "But Athanasia herself----"

  "Ah! that indeed is a point of some difficulty. It was merely from havingremembered who the men were that rode off with you, that I was enabled tolearn so soon whither you yourself had been conveyed. But the partyconsisted of a few men out of almost every one of our cohorts,--those, inshort, that were on duty, scattered up and down in different parts of thecity; and I may not find it very easy to discover who had the care of anyother individual."

  "But Athanasia----"

  "True," said he, "I had not thought of it. There was but one femalebesides herself. That will furnish a clue. You may rely on it, I shalleasily find out the place to which they have taken her; but then where,and at what distance that may be, Heaven only knows; for it seemed as ifevery prisoner were to be carried to a separate place of confinement. Atall events, even if we knew where she is, we could do nothing at present.Come, cheer up, now you have unburdened yourself of all this load. I shallbe ready to start as early as ever you please in the morning."

  By this time the moon was in full splendour, and nothing could be morebeautiful than the scenery of the native place of Sabinus, as we drew nearto its precincts. A little gentle stream, which kissed our path, did notdesert us as we entered the village, but murmured all through its humblestreet. Street, indeed, I should not say; for there were dwelling-houseson the one side only, the other being occupied with gardens, in the midstof which I saw the Doric portico of a small temple. In front of this abridge crossed the stream, and there we were met by a troop of maidens,who seemed to be moving toward the sacred place with some purpose ofdevotion, for they were singing in alternate measures, and in their handsthey carried garlands. Some recognized Sabinus, and, without interruptingtheir chant, saluted him with their laughing eyes. We halted our horses,and saw them proceed all together into the hallowed enclosure, which theydid, not by means of the bridge, although they were close by it, but bywading hand in hand through the stream below; whose pebbles, as itappeared from the evenness of their motion, dared not to offer anyviolence to the delicate feet that trod upon them. "Happy creatures," saidI to the Centurion; "of a surety they think these moonbeams shine onnothing but glad faces like their own. Alas! with what heart does poorAthanasia at this moment contemplate this lovely heaven!"--"Nay, Valerius,"quoth he, "if people were not to be contented with their own share ofsorrow, would the world, think ye, be worth living in? I hope Athanasiaherself will ere long sing again by the moonlight.--But stop, here is myown old haunt, the abode of our village barber, and now I think of it,perhaps it might be as well that you and Dromo should remain here for amoment, till I ride on to the house, and let them know you are coming, forthe sudden sight of strange faces might alarm the old folks at this hour."

  He had scarcely said so, when the tonsor himself, hearing, I suppose, thesound of our horses' feet, ran out with his razor and basin in his hand,to see what might be the matter. "Ah, good Virro," quoth the Centurion,"with joy do I once more behold your face. Well, the girls still sing, andVirro still shaves; so every thing, without question, goes well."--"TheCenturion himself!" replies the barber; "so Venus smile upon me, it isKaeso Sabinus, who I began to think would never come back again.--Here, boy,bring out a cup of the best. Alight, I pray you--well, at least, you shallkiss the rim of the goblet."--"I will," said he, "I promise you, my goodfriend, and that in a minute or two; but I must first salute my father;and, in the meantime, I leave with you in pledge, good Virro, my excellentfriend here, and the most knowing Cretan that ever landed atBrundusium.--Dismount, Valerius, I shall be with you again ere Virro canhalf smoothen the chin of Dromo, which even this morning shewed no smallneed of trimming."--"Well, well," said the tonsor, "eagles will have theirown way. Be speedy."

  The Centurion had set the spur to his charger; and we, in obedience to hiscommand, submitted ourselves to the guidance of the oily-faced littlebarber. A stripling was already holding two horses at the door, butanother came out and took care of our animals, and we entered, exchangingcourteous salutations, the tonsorial penetralia.

  They were occupied by as various and talkative a company, as theimagination of Lucilius ever assembled in such a place. In the middle ofthe room, which was spacious, though low-roofed, hung a huge shield ofbrass, with a dozen mouths of flame blazing around the edge of itscircumference, close beside which sat a man with a napkin tucked about hisneck, the one side of whose visage, still besmeared with a thick coat oflather, testified that the curiosity of Virro had induced him to abandon ayet uncompleted job. The half-trimmed physiognomy, however, displayed nosign of impatience, and the barber himself seemed not to think any apologynecessary, for he resumed his operations with an air of greatcheerfulness, saying, "Neighbours all, here is Kaeso Sabinus, that is nowthe Centurion, come once more to gladden the old village with his merryface, and that, I promise you, is prettily tanned since we knew himfirst."

  This piece of news appeared not a little to interest several of those whowere sitting under the tonsor's roof. "Ha!" said one, "the nobleCenturion! Well, has he brought home a wife with him at last? for the talkwas, that he had been seen at the Amphitheatre, paying great court to oneof the richest ladies in Rome."

  "A wife?" says Virro, "no, no, centurions and barbers can do withoutwives. But if he is to have one, I shall be happy to hear she is rich; forcenturions, after all, sometimes carry most of their silver upon theirhelmets, as we do most of our brass on our basins."--"Indeed," said I, "Inever heard of it before."

  "If it please you, friend," said a
nother of them, "is this the sameSabinus that has lately been in Britain?"--"Britain," quoth an ancientdame; "I never heard that name before--Britain! I know it not--I know notwhere he hath been, but they told me it was over the sea, perhaps inPalestine."--"Tut, dame," interrupted the barber, (who was now busy onDromo,) "you think every one goes to Palestine, because your own boycarried a spear with Titus; but you know they ruined the city, and killedall the Jews and Christians, and there is no occasion for sendingCenturions thither now."--"Killed all the Jews and Christians, said you?"quoth another. "I think the old dame has the better of you as to thatpoint at least, Virro. Not Trajan himself will ever be able to kill themall; the superstition spreads like a pestilence. It was but last nightthat a hundred of them were taken together in one place, eating humanflesh."--"Human flesh!" quoth the barber. "Oh, ye gods, why do ye enduresuch barbarians!"

  "Human flesh!" echoed Dromo, springing from his seat, and I looked at him,and saw that the barber in his horror had made in truth a deep incisionupon the cheek of the poor man. The blood, oozing from the cut, hadalready traced a river of crimson upon the snowy surface of hiswell-soaped chin. It was this that had deranged the philosophic composureand customary phlegm of my Cretan; and no wonder; but the enthusiastictonsor took no notice of what had occurred.--"Great Jove," he proceeded,and he pointed to the roof with his razor as he spake--"Great Jove! Iadjure thee! are all thy lightnings spent; is there never a thunderboltremaining?"

  "In the meantime," quoth one of the bystanders, "they are in the hand notof Jove, but of Trajan, and he, I think, cannot now be accused of treatingthese wretches with too much lenity. You have all heard of thatTisias?"--"We have," cried another; "but what was a single individual tothis great assembly? what a sight will it be the day they are allexecuted!"

  "I think," said the same person who had inquired whether our Centurionwere the Sabinus that had been in Britain,--"I think you are overrating thenumbers of that assembly. I heard of no more than a dozen."

  This stranger (for such he seemed) had probably taken that day aconsiderable journey, for his tunic and boots were covered with dust. Hewas attired in the plainest manner, but notwithstanding, there wassomething about him which gave one the idea of rank superior to thecompany in which he was seated; and his complexion was so dark that Icould not help thinking to myself,--I am not the only provincial in theroom; here is certainly some well-born African or Asiatic.

  "You have not told me, however," said he, after a pause, "whether or notthis be the Sabinus that was lately in Britain."--"Sir," said I, "it is thesame; I myself came in the same ship with him, but a few days ago. He is aCenturion in the Praetorian Bands."--"Yes," replied the stranger, "I guessedin truth, it must be the same; for I remember no other of that rankbearing the same name."--"If you are acquainted with him," said I, "you mayhave an opportunity of seeing him immediately, for I expect him here everymoment to conduct me to his father's villa, which is hard by."

  "Well," quoth the barber, who by this time had ended, without freshmisadventure, the trimming of the Cretan--"well, I hope he will stay for amoment when he does come, and then we shall be sure to hear the truth asto this story about the Christian assembly. They may talk as they please,but may Jove devote me, if I had Caesar's ring upon my finger for onenight, this should be the last of them."--"And how, friend," said thestranger, "by what means, if I may ask you, should you propose so speedilyto do away with this fast-spreading abomination?"--"Look ye, sirs," quothhe, "I would place myself thus in my tribunal"--(he took his seat at alittle table, beside a goblet of wine, as he spake,) "I would seat myselfthus in the midst of a field, as Cato and the great Censors of old used todo. I would cause Rome to be emptied--man, woman, and child should passbefore me; and every one that did not acknowledge the gods as he passed,by all the gods! he should sprawl upon a tree in presence of all thepeople. What avails watching, prying, spying, and surprising? I shouldmake shorter work of it, I trow."

  "You may say what you will," said one who had not before spoken, "I cannotbring myself to believe every thing I hear concerning theirsuperstition."--"Ay, goldsmith," quoth the barber, "you were always fond ofhaving an opinion of your own; and, pray, what is it that you have hadoccasion to know about the Christians, more than the rest of us who hearyou? If you mean that you have seen some of them die bravely in theAmphitheatre, why, that we have all heard of at least, and I think nobodydisputes it."--"No, master barber," replied he, "that is not what I wasthinking of. I have seen your common thief-knave, when he knew he could dono better, brace you his nerves for the extremity, and die like aHercules. I would rather judge of a man by his living than hisdying."--"True," rejoins Virro; "and pray, what have you got to tell usabout the life, then, of the Christians?"--"Not much," said he, "you shallhear. My old mother (peace to her manes) was passing the Salarian one daylast year, and there came by a hot-headed spark, driving four abreast in achariot as fiercely as Nero in the Circus. He called out, that I believe,but the dame was deaf, and whether he tried to pull up, I know not, butthe horses trod upon her as she fell. Another of the same sort came closebehind, and I have been told they were running a race; but however thatmight be, on they both passed like a whirlwind, and my poor mother wasleft by herself among the flying dust. But the gods had mercy on her; theysent a kind heart to her aid. She was carried into one of the stateliestvillas on that side of Tiber, and tended for six weeks by a noble lady, asif she had been not my mother, but her own; and this lady, friends--by JoveI suspected it not for long after--this lady was a Christian; but I shallnot say how I found it out, nor would I mention the thing at all but amonghonest men. But where were these you spoke of taken?--I should like to knowwho they were."

  "They were taken," said the stranger, "not far from the Appian Way, withinone of the old monuments there,--a monument, it is said, of theSempronii."--"Of the Sempronii?" cried the goldsmith, "Phoebus Apollo shieldus!" and from that moment he became as silent as hitherto he had beencommunicative.

  The swarthy stranger, the silence yet continuing, arose from his seat,laid a piece of money upon the table, and moved towards the door. Thebarber also rose up, but he said to him, "Sit still, I pray you, myfriend;" at the same time beckoning with his finger to the goldsmith, who,with a very dejected countenance, followed him into the street. Whatpassed between them there, we perceived not; but the artificer re-enterednot the chamber till some moments after we had heard the departing treadof the stranger's horses. When he did come in again, he had the appearanceof being in great confusion.