The Blood of the Martyrs

by Naomi Mitchison

  Flavia gave a little gasp of pleasure and excitement, then suddenly caught his wrist. ‘You’ve got blood on your hand too! And on your tunic! And there at your knee!’ She pressed her face quickly against the hand. ‘Yes, you are a man! You know, Beric, you look different. Come and talk to me. We shan’t be able to talk when I’m married.’ It was the first time Beric had been in her room since the afternoon of the party. Deep in his mind was all that had happened since. But here were the familiar things, the couch, the silk hangings, the little tables, the silver mirror, the carved chests and cushions, the smell in his nostrils. Flavia’s hand after all in his. He was still holding the sticky knife; she pointed to it. ‘Did you do it in one stroke?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Kiss me, Beric!’ she said. He turned on her and kissed her as she’d never been kissed yet; he didn’t care whether she liked it or not—but she did. She gasped and gave a few little cries—she didn’t know what he mightn’t do next, but she half hoped he’d do it all the same! She was beginning to go soft in his arms, and then he suddenly stopped. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘it’s lucky my maid isn’t here after all!’

  He moved slightly away from her and said, ‘Yes. It was your maid I began thinking about just now. No, not what you mean, Flavia! I was only thinking that you’d seen blood on steel quite often already.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Those pins. Persis.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I! She’s mine.’

  ‘She can feel things, though.’

  ‘I should hope so! You can’t train slaves without making them feel. Anyhow, it’s no business of yours. How did you know—has the little rat come squealing to you?’

  He made a great effort and spoke very gently. ‘Do you really think of her like that, Flavia? Not as another girl—someone who’d like to be fond of you—if you gave her a chance?’

  ‘What on earth’s come over you? Talking in the same breath about me and my slaves! Fond of me indeed!’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like her to be fond of you?’

  ‘No, it would be disgusting—all my slaves have got to be afraid of me! Of course, it’s different with you and little Argas!’

  ‘That’s nothing to do with it!’

  ‘Well, where else did you get your ideas from? Beric … why are you so interested in what happens to these Christians? Why did you want to kill the informer? He was probably a valuable police agent! I believe—oh, I believe you’re mixed up with it yourself!’

  ‘Believe what you like!’ said Beric roughly. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, Christians don’t murder. And that’s what I’ve done.’ He went out of the room very quickly, leaving her all excited and wondering. Could he be one of these Christians? Weren’t they all murderers? Oh, he’d never kissed her like that in the old days!

  But he was on his way to the bakery to find Eunice. It was the opposite way from the street where no doubt the blood was still not dry on the stones. No one had heard. Perhaps it hadn’t happened. If he forgot about it, it wouldn’t have happened.

  He told Eunice about the arrest. She took it very well. ‘Most likely Crispus will get our people back,’ she said, bringing him into the bakery and shutting the door, ‘and I’ll tell Claudia Acté.’

  ‘Will she be able to get Lalage out?’

  ‘If anyone can she will. But this looks like the beginning of what we’ve been afraid of.’

  ‘They don’t really believe any of us started the fire, do they?’

  ‘Oh no. But they’ll try and make everyone else think so. It’s like this, Beric. The way things have been till now, we haven’t been hated: not by ordinary people—you know, little shopkeepers and householders, folks in a small way, the ones that make up most of any city. They’ve said things about us, but if a good neighbour happened to be a Christian, well, they just looked the other way, or else, sooner or later, they’ve come in. There’s Churches in Rome that have grown up that way, slow and steady. But that didn’t suit those on top. They want to get rid of us and they’ll only be able to if they can get up a good hate among these ordinary folk, so that my neighbour, say, will want to see me burnt alive. And like seeing it. No, Beric, don’t look like that. It’s all in the game. I’ve known a long time now what we might be in for. I only keep on hoping my boy—well, I just can’t help it, me being his mother. But they think they’ll be able to finish us that way. Stop the Kingdom from coming. If they can get ordinary people against us, too.’

  ‘Eunice, who exactly do you mean by “they”?’

  ‘The Emperor and Tigellinus. And all that lot. The ones who want everything on earth, yes, and want to be God, though they know in their hearts they can’t be—but they’ll try and make us all say they are, so they can begin believing it themselves!’

  ‘And you’re going to fight them?’

  ‘Yes, and win. Through God’s help and will in us. Now Beric, go over and tell Sapphira, and I’ll find Claudia Acté.’ She gave him directions for getting to Phineas’s house, woke one of her orphans and told him to see to the ovens, picked up her veil, and went to the door. Looking out into the dark, she signed herself with the cross. She went one way, he another.

  It was half an hour’s walk, plenty of time to think. He supposed it was true, what Eunice had said. Yes, it was what they’d all been saying really. Only nobody believes a thing till it happens. He hadn’t. Well, he wasn’t a coward! And suddenly, in the middle of the bridge across the Tiber, he thought: it is terrible for a man to have nothing he can die for. I have been taken away from Britain, my fatherland, which my own people died for, my uncle, my cousins—no, they didn’t die for Britain, who wants to die for a lot of trees and mud, they didn’t die for the people in Britain, they only died for their own power and rule over those people. And I don’t want to die for that and I don’t want to die for the rule of Rome. I haven’t had anything to die for till now. But now I have got something and I’m glad. And the slaves have got something. Even Niger and Dapyx. They’ve got something the masters can’t take away from them. So they’re one up on their masters. God, no wonder the masters hate it!

  Having located the house, he knocked and a woman opened at once, but seeing a stranger, half screamed and tried to shut the door on him. But he made the sign quickly, saying, ‘In Jesus’ Name, let me in!’ She held the door still, but asked, ‘Who are you, friend?’

  ‘I come from the Church.’ he said, ‘They have all been arrested.’ Her hold on the door slackened and he pushed past into the strong fish smell of the shop and shut the door behind them both. He picked up the lamp she had put on the floor and saw that she was crying quietly and steadily. ‘You’re Sapphira?’ he asked. She nodded. This was the girl Phineas had fallen in love with and married, although he might have had her as a slave. Her hair was dark and wavy under her veil; tears kept slipping over her dark eyelashes. ‘Don’t cry, sister,’ he said, ‘it’s sure to be all right. Phineas didn’t look afraid.’ Her Greek seemed to have deserted her; she spoke a few words in some language he didn’t know and pushed him towards the inner room, where another woman sat with a child asleep in her arms. Outside, a watch-dog barked. Another sleeping child woke and saw him and began to cry. He made the sign again to the second woman; it was all he could think of.

  At last Sapphira dried her eyes with the edge of her veil and said haltingly, ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Go to the Mamertine prison tomorrow with as much money as you can to buy him out. If you can’t raise it, I expect I can.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, friend. His father will have money. Will they hurt him?’

  ‘Not tonight, I’m sure. What about Rhodon?’

  ‘I will see. Will ask. God bless you for coming to me, friend. Are you one of us?’

  ‘I’m not baptised yet. But I will be.’

  They would have given him milk to drink, but he suspected that it was the children’s and didn’t want it, anyhow. He left, trying to be as gentle as he could. But once outside the house he w
alked quickly, more and more angered at all this hurting of helpless, innocent people. They. The hurters. The ones on top. If they could be got at. It was no use killing a creature like Sotion. The person who needed killing was Tigellinus.

  At the house the porter, who had been drowsing on his bench beside the door till the knock came, let him in. He said to Beric, ‘You’d know about these Christians, sir, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ asked Beric quickly.

  ‘I’ve been here since you were a baby, sir, so you don’t need to be angry about me knowing. I couldn’t help seeing the way you looked. You’ve heard of the cross sign, haven’t you, sir?’

  ‘Well—yes.’

  ‘I thought so. I thought, he’s been hearing some of the stories. I don’t go further than stories myself, stories of some and others that got the cross. I don’t go doing things in cellars. No, not me. But you got me this cushion for my bench, didn’t you, sir?’

  ‘Well, you’re too old to lie on a hard bench all night.’

  ‘Nobody thought of that before. Though I’ve been here all these years. Look, there’s the ring I used to be chained to.’

  ‘I can’t remember you ever being chained.’

  ‘Oh, that was away back, when you weren’t taller than my elbow, sir. There was an older man on the door then. When he died they knew they could trust me and I was unchained.’

  ‘Why did they think they could trust you?’

  ‘Why? Because I’d been chained so long. And so they could. So they could. And so can you, sir. I won’t tell about you and the Christians.’

  ‘When did you hear about the cross stories?’

  ‘Oh, first in the years when I was chained. Times I was loosed for food and sleeping. I heard then. And now I tell myself the stories. They keep off the ghosts and the little noise of the chains rattling. They aren’t real chains now.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Beric, ‘I hate all these chains and crosses and whips! I’d like to kill everybody who hurt anybody else!’

  ‘You’d have to do a lot of killing then, wouldn’t you, sir. You go to bed, sir.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Me? Oh, I’ve got my new cushion and the stories I tell myself and I’m not chained now. You can trust me, sir.’

  Before breakfast Flavius Crispus sent over two messengers, one to Gallio and the other to Balbus, after Beric had explained that one of the prisoners was Balbus’s litter slave. Then he put on his toga, started out, picked up Gallio in the Forum, and marched over to see Tigellinus, Beric and Hermeias walking behind. The two old boys discussed the illegality and impropriety of the arrests, which had, apparently, been general; everyone was whispering about them already. It was early still, but the sun was blazing and bringing out the unpleasant smell of ashes, and as they walked they got hotter and hotter in their formal clothes and more and more annoyed with Nero and Tigellinus. Tigellinus indeed! Some people were hinting that nobody knew more about how that fire started than Tigellinus! When a man’s lost his home, he’s got something more immediate to worry about than misgovernment and corruption in high places. And if the authorities round up a few hundred Christians, put them through a solemn trial and find them guilty, then they’ll get all the curses, and Nero will only have to appear on his balcony in uniform to have all Rome lining up below and shouting Hail! Beric and Hermeias glanced at one another. Could that be true?

  Tigellinus gave them an audience at once and was most affable. Almost too much so. They couldn’t be as indignant as they wanted to be. Tigellinus told Flavius Crispus that of course he might collect his own property; he would give them a note to the Governor of the prison. By the way, he was going to have Candidus appointed under-Governor, a responsible position these days. And he would personally reprimand him for the informality of the arrests. ‘By the way, Crispus,’ he said, looking up from his tablets, ‘you will, of course, see to it that there is no more suspicion of Christianity in your own household?’

  ‘Naturally! Although I am still certain there must have been some misunderstanding. It is almost incredible that in a household like mine—’

  ‘The information came from a reliable agent. Who, by the way, has been found murdered. However, I think we are in possession of all the facts he may have had.’

  ‘Can’t trust informers,’ Gallio said. ‘Never used ’em in my time.’

  ‘Ah. Well, we do now. It’s remarkable what one finds out. Most remarkable. Here is the order for the return of your property, Crispus. I hope you will find it undamaged.’

  ‘I should hope so indeed! Two of them were valuable dancing boys. You’d better go straight off Beric, you and Hermeias, and claim the slaves.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Tigellinus, sticking a handful of nuts into his mouth and crunching them, ‘the bog-trotter! Yes, send him along. We shall not begin any systematic questioning for a day or two, but the men get excited sometimes when they have a degraded type of criminal, such as these Christians, to deal with. Now, won’t you gentlemen take a glass of wine with me?’

  Gallio and Crispus stayed, but Beric and Hermeias went hurrying off to the Mamertine prison. Beric was wondering just how many of the facts Sotion had given. Were all the Church in danger? And Tigellinus just waiting? Or, if Sotion hadn’t given the names, were the men and women who had been arrested going to be tortured to give them? The whole thing was full of the most horrible possibilities. And Lalage? In the meantime, did Hermeias suspect something? Beric asked him. ‘No,’ said he, ‘I had no idea that there was anything of the kind in our household. I find the whole thing rather disgusting!’ He hesitated. ‘As a matter of fact, I am initiate in one of the mysteries. As far as I hear, these Christians have merely imitated some of our ideas and methods. Some of our most sacred ideas. They have, naturally, debased them, putting in crude meanings of their own.’

  ‘What sort of ideas, Hermeias?’

  ‘Largely about the life to come. You’re too young to want to worry about such things. But as death approaches, we must begin to consider it. And some of us have found a way through.’

  ‘A Redeemer?’

  ‘Well, no; I should be inclined to call it a process of personal redemption. If you are interested—but here we are.’

  They handed in the note and were told to come and identify their property. They were taken through barred doors into a courtyard which was crowded with prisoners, standing or sitting, who all turned towards them. Some were singing, but most were talking and praying in low voices. It was very hot by now and only a few at a time could get into the shade; the place was beginning, inevitably, to smell very foul; from time to time someone fainted. Here and there a boy or a young woman would be crying with discomfort and anxiety, but enough looked brave and steadfast to encourage Beric. A few even, looked very happy. He found their lot, but not Lalage and Sophrosyne, or Phineas. While Hermeias was getting hold of a prison guard to unchain them, he asked quickly and was told that Sapphira had come already. So had Claudia Acté, who had bought out quite a number, and was coming back. Lalage had wanted to stay, but her old accompanist seemed ill. Euphemia was really only worrying in case her daughter got to know. Perhaps Eunice would get her out. ‘It’s mostly a matter of money, then?’ Beric asked. ‘This time, dear. And surety for good behaviour. But they’ve got our names for next time,’ Euphemia said. ‘Well, it’s one of the blessings coming to us at last—He said we’d be persecuted.’

  The prison guard took the irons off the others; Beric tipped him and asked him to get some water for the ones who were left. ‘Do you think we should have their hands tied,’ Hermeias asked in an undertone, ‘if they are Christians?’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Beric. It was all being very difficult. None of the house slaves would look at him, except sometimes Phaon; it was the sensible thing to do, but all the other prisoners looked at him and talked about him. At the last moment, Niger suddenly knelt in front of Manasses with a look of utter fear and wretchedness. ‘Give me strength,’ he said. Manasses la
id hands on him in blessing and said low, ‘Keep your mind on Jesus; He will give you strength, Niger. Don’t ever forget. Don’t kill yourself. Remember you are one of our witnesses; you are the salt and the light. Your Church will be thinking of you and praying for you. We will all be brave for one another and for Him. We are in the Will, Niger. Bless you.’ Hermeias was shaking Beric’s arm, saying that this must be stopped, and Beric was trying to distract him. Manasses kissed Niger and said, ‘We’re ready.’ They pushed their way through the crowd and out.

  Nobody said anything, only when they came to a fountain at a street corner, Manasses asked Hermeias if they might stop and drink. Here, Beric managed to touch Argas’s hand, as though accidentally, and felt his fingers close and grip. Otherwise the six slaves kept very close together, their eyes on the ground; Beric walked to one side, Hermeias at the other. At the house, Beric went straight to Crispus, said he had brought them back, and what now?

  ‘Send them in,’ said Crispus, ‘and Felix.’

  Beric knew very well that Felix was in charge of punishments. He said, ‘Do they have to be punished? They’ve all been badly frightened. Besides—’

  ‘Do what you’re told, Beric,’ said Crispus. ‘You don’t want me to begin to suspect you of this foul thing? Quick now!’

  The slaves were quite well aware that it wasn’t all going to be forgiven and forgotten. They had discussed that during the night, but not at great length: what was the use? It was much worse for Niger; if he was taken out of prison, it would be by Montanus, to get a worse flogging than he’d ever had yet: and alone. Perhaps not able to come to the others for weeks and weeks, perhaps not ever again. Manasses thought of his Church with a desperate tenderness. If only he could take it all on himself! It must be like this being a father. Lalage was in a way the most important one—much more important really than he was—but all of them were his children, for whom he would give his life. He had known now for quite a long time that this might happen, but not in detail. Besides, it is no use knowing things in the future; you have to experience them. He was in the middle of that now.