‘I never told till now,’ said Megallis, half crying. ‘I didn’t want to! I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been near sure!’
‘But if Rhodon lives,’ said Abgar slowly, ‘Rhodon couldn’t not—be seeing me—after him doing that for me—and I would do—the same or anything—’
‘Oh, let it go then!’ Megallis cried out, and her tears got the better of her and she choked and hiccuped, and Eunice brought her over a mug of water. But if it was true Eunice thought, it is doing harm to the rest of us already; he has sinned against us as well as against God. And then she thought, if he is alive and has left us, either he hates us and wants to break us up, or else he still loves us in his heart and wants to help us—and he will do that best by keeping away from us. Most of all away from poor Abgar. And maybe that’s what he’s done and it shows he’s partly with us still. And she patted Megallis and kissed her forehead.
But Phaon was going on. Felicio listened; no, it was not yet. ‘There were three of our people who were tempted in ordinary ways,’ Phaon was saying now. ‘And they were not delivered from those temptations. You who are hearing about us now, you will be bound to be tempted, the world being the way it is. One of them was tempted by money, because he was poor, and he betrayed us and lost the Kingdom and cannot at all be part of the future. Money and that, it’s the commonest temptation; it was the very first temptation Jesus Himself saw through and dealt with. Sotion, the man who was tempted that way, is dead, squashed out like a bug on the wall. Mankind is the worse for his having been born. It would be most terrible to have that said in truth about one. And two others had the temptation of fear; they were afraid of pain; Josias and Dapyx let their bodies overcome their spirits, Dapyx denied us and died badly, and Josias killed himself. Their deaths were useless. And made their lives useless. It was as though they had never lived the new way.’
‘Josias never denied us, son,’ Eunice said.
‘Except that he was afraid to be a witness. But we remember him still with love. And not one of us knows his own strength or his own weakness during life. It will only be known after we have made a good death. If we get that blessing.’ He stayed quiet a moment; he had been very near death himself and he was still very young.
It was Persis who said, ‘We’ll get strength for that if we ask for it. Oh, brothers and sisters, I know! I’m only a girl and I don’t know much about anything, but I thought I was to die as a witness myself, and I did feel the strength coming to me. Like something you could lay hold of.’
And Eprius said painfully, ‘They had strength. Oh Jesus, you gave them strength to die!’
Then Phaon said, ‘There was another. He was tempted too. In a different way. But in the end he was a witness too.’ It’s coming now, thought Felicio, and I am prepared. ‘Carpus, he was one of the rich, but he saw the Kingdom and he came to us. His name was Beric.’ And Felicio, to his extreme surprise, had cried out aloud, and thrown his hand out, groping, and Niger had hold of him, had brotherly care. And again Phaon was going on, ‘When the powers of evil tempted Jesus, they said to him, “Set yourself up as God, cast yourself down from the top of the Temple, do things which only God can do.” But Jesus said no. He said, “I am a man, under God.” So He dealt with that temptation. But Beric set himself up as God, making judgments of right and wrong, saying that it was good to do evil at times which he himself might choose. Most likely he did that because he was a master and used to his own will being other people’s law. Like a god’s. Like the old gods whose wills were evil and unbounded. Until Justice which was always beyond them—which is another name for our God—laid hands on them in the end.’
‘But was this man a master,’ asked Carpus, ‘truly?’
‘He was my master,’ Phaon said. ‘He used to make me do the things a slave has to do. Against my will.’ And he thought of parties where Beric had made him be this or that for the guests. And it all seemed a very long time ago. In the days when he had cried easily, when songs and drawings were always coming into his head. Before Argas had taken the beating for him.
‘What happened?’ Carpus asked again.
‘He murdered a man,’ said Phaon slowly, ‘he took the life of that one who had betrayed us. Although the rest of us had forgiven him. He did that almost without thinking, in the way of a master. But afterwards he tried to kill again, and this time he had thought about it, and in spite of what the rest of us said and what he knew for himself, he made out that he would be right to do it. He sinned and God punished him for it, so as to save him in the end. But others were punished as well, because that’s how sins are, spreading like the rings on water when the chucked stone’s already deep and quiet in the bottom mud. And it was worst for those who loved him most; that’s how sins are, too. It was worst for Argas.’
‘That’s right,’ said Sannio, who had seen something he couldn’t ever forget, through the grating across a prison cell.
‘Brothers and sisters,’ Phaon said, ‘you have said our Words often. You know them too, Carpus? Well, did you ever think what it means, us asking not to be led into temptation? These Words mean, maybe everything. But one of the special things they mean is this. We ask not to be put where there’s no good way out, but only bad ways. And that’s where we’re apt to be in Rome and Rome’s world. We can’t see how to alter the state of things that’s keeping the Kingdom from us all except by murder and violence. You who’re new to us, you know the lies that were told about us starting the fire; and we are all very sure that no true Christian would have done that. But sometimes I ask myself whether it mightn’t have been started by someone who perhaps even called himself a Christian, but had got so crazed by the state of things that he was trying to finish them even that way so as to get the Kingdom quicker. You can’t hurry the Kingdom. We know that. But someone might have been tempted to think you could.’
‘Can’t we be sure when the Kingdom will come?’ the silent woman Marulla suddenly asked. ‘Can’t we have a promise.’
‘Sister, it will come when enough people want it. But things as they are stop people from wanting it. They’re offered the Devil’s kingdom instead—the kingdoms of the world—money power and power over people. We’ve got to end that before everyone, even the stupidest, will see what our Kingdom is and want it. And we’ve got to end it at the roots, at evil itself. Oh, it’s difficult to say, friends, but to my mind, what’s tempting us worst is to try and smash the kingdoms of the world and their power instead of smashing what’s behind them. See, friends?’
‘But we can’t fight it except in other men,’ Phineas said. ‘We see it in the rich. We see it in Nero and Tigellinus and in them we have to destroy it!’
‘We’ve got to keep ourselves from hating them—most of all from hating one or two men and saying to ourselves that they’re evil itself. Oh Phineas, if we do that we’re done! We’ll go back. We’ve got to get at the will for evil that they have—find out first of all, why they have it. That’s half the battle.’
‘Surely we must fight the evil will in people first,’ said Phineas slowly, ‘but how?’
‘The worst of it is,’ said Phaon, frowning, ‘that the evil will makes the power, yet I can’t see but how the power also makes the evil will. It’s a circle. But there’s a weak place somewhere. There must be. That’s where we’ve got to break it, friends. And meantime people are tempted like Beric was, to do evil that good may come. And they’ll go on being tempted just so long as things are this way. So long as the rich are oppressing us, making us want to kill them. And that’s why we ask every day in our prayers for the ending of things as they are. And remind ourselves that we’ve all got to help this to happen. Though not by doing evil. But always by some kind of doing. We can’t just sit back and say it’s none of our business. That’s the death of the soul, that Jesus died to save us from. Oh, friends, it’s difficult, being a Christian!’
‘We need to keep our thoughts on it, brother,’ Niger said soberly, ‘doing just what we see in front of us.’
/> ‘But what happened to this master?’ Carpus asked, ‘after he had sinned?’
‘He took action,’ said Phaon slowly, ‘of a kind which washed it out. And he was forgiven. And he was one of those who were eaten by beasts in the Circus Maximus. You must have seen him among the prisoners, Eprius.’ But Eprius groaned, his head down on the table, his hands beating and picking at the wood, so that the air grew dusty with upshaken flour. ‘And others saw him too.’ Suddenly Phaon was staring at Felicio, drawing him to his feet.
And Felicio had to speak. ‘He bought me. Beric did that. With his love and his blood. Because one can’t be bought with less than that or the certain promise of it.’ Across the lamplight Felicio and Phaon seemed to be speaking directly at one another. And Phaon had been bought by Argas. And both of them were fasting and a little dizzy, seeing things more than usual from the outside, and each could see the tears shining on the face of the other.
Eunice said to Carpus, ‘So there was nothing lost. Not really. And there won’t be if we die too. Because we’ve made ourselves part of something that never stays still, but always keeps on growing and changing.’ He tried to take it in. One of the lamps was beginning to burn down; she went over to the corner for the big oil jar. It must be getting quite late. Eprius still had his head down on the table in a fierce agony.
Noumi had said nothing at all the whole time; now she said in a half-whisper, ‘But for those who do not see with their own eyes? How can they be bought?’
Nobody answered at once. Then Eunice said, ‘It’s funny, now I come to remember it, but whenever we talked about it before like, we didn’t think how big the Circus was. So that there was thousands who never saw—not faces. Not so that you’d know it was real people. It was only the ones in the best seats that were sure to see. And some of them were the kind that can’t be got at: not by blood nor yet by love. I don’t see how you can alter people’s minds if you can’t, so to speak, get near them.’
‘And for the ones whose faces are seen—for us,’ Noumi asked again. ‘Can we show our forgiveness of those we do not see? Can we even love them?’
‘I don’t see that you can do anything except you get close,’ Eunice answered, bothered.
‘That’s something we’ll have to find out,’ Phaon said, and his voice had hardened again. But Felicio suddenly had the idea of books; if a poet could write a book that was about something here and now, not hundreds of years ago. But could you do that with a book?
‘Didn’t change old Hermeias, seeing it,’ said Mikkos thoughtfully. ‘He knows about us: bound to. But he keeps himself away from us. Embarrassed, like.’
‘He had something else,’ Felicio said, ‘which did for him instead of the Kingdom. Some kind of a Mystery.’ He realised, with a certain amusement, that he was considering this Mystery, which Hermeias was so serious about, as a mere bit of superstition—just in the same way that Nausiphanes considered the thing which he himself was about to do.
‘And seeing may shake a man up, but not to go our way,’ said Sannio, ‘like with that brother of Beric’s.’
‘What really happened about that?’ Phaon asked. ‘I never knew, not being in the house myself then.’
‘I wasn’t there either, not when he came,’ Sannio said. ‘We were still in the prison. All I know is, he came round that night, and he went for the old man—it was Lamprion told me—something savage. As if it had been his doing. Went for him good and proper, shouting and yelling, oh my, oh my! Not even in Latin, it seems, but in that language of theirs. This Beric of our’s and his brother, they were King’s sons, see Carpus? From some place up north. Proper barbarians they were, to start with. And then, all of a sudden, he hit the old man, hit him real nasty, and then Lamprion and Pistos and the rest, who’d been sent out but were just behind the door, as I’d have been myself, well they all ran in and caught hold of him and were all for sending for the police. But the old man, he said no, and he told them to let Clinog loose, and then they went out together—past midnight it was, then—and neither Lamprion nor any of us so much as allowed to follow. Hermeias was asleep then: he’d had a bit of a doing, poor bastard. So he wasn’t in on it, either way.’
‘But was that all?’ Phaon asked.
‘Seems so,’ said Sannio.
‘Not like Beric, to let it go at that,’ Phaon said, puzzling. But he had never ever seen Clinog. It might be true.
But after a minute Eunice said, ‘I can tell you the rest. I don’t see why I shouldn’t: not among ourselves. You see, it was here that Flavius Crispus brought him. To my bakery. I was asleep and it was all dark. I jumped up. Oh, I could lay it was bad news! About you, son. But it was those two. And when Crispus said it was Beric’s brother, I fell to crying, silly it was, but I was all shook up. And then Crispus told me, very quiet, how this Clinog had struck him, and said what should he do. So I said, he’d best hit you again, if that’s how he feels, or me for that matter, who cares about being hit now? And then Crispus said, you tell him about it, Eunice, for I can’t. So I did tell him.’
‘Everything?’ said Phaon.
‘Yes. But it didn’t take, son. He listened, yes, but then he began to laugh. Not right laughter, but queer. And he said, so that’s what my brother died for, and he struck me. And Crispus would have stopped him, but I said no, let him. And he said, this is what Rome has done to both of my brothers. I never knew there’d been another brother, even. And at last he said, get me a transfer to Britain, I’m going back before it’s too late. And Crispus said, I will try and do that for you, Clinog. And I believe that’s just what he’s been doing.’
‘And that’s that,’ Phaon said. Then, ‘Has anyone any other business?’
Megallis looked up and asked, ‘Any news of Paul?’
‘I’ve heard no more, not definite,’ Phaon said. ‘Has anyone else?’
Phineas said, ‘I saw one of the officers from Aquila’s old church. She said he’d come up for trial next month. It’s certain to be a capital sentence. Well, we know and he knows. And we needn’t fear any temptation for him. He’ll die for us, just as he’s lived for us all these years.’
‘I’d like to have seen him,’ Sannio said. ‘It would be something to keep in one’s head. Will it be a public execution, him being a citizen?’ But nobody knew that.
‘I tell you who’s seen him,’ Phaon said, ‘and that’s Junius Gallio. Heard him say so at dinner one day. He went back to the prison to visit him: seems they had quite an argument. Got a nerve, Gallio has, going back to the Mamertine. I wish I knew what those old birds were after, though; they send us out after dinner and, what’s more, they see no one’s listening.’
It occurred to Felicio that he half thought he did know, putting two and two together. But how did it fit in with Christianity? That was what he did not know yet, could not begin to consider until his mind was calm again. If it ever was. And then from beside him Niger spoke. ‘Friends, I got someone. He works by me, sleeps by me. I tell him all the stories. I tell him the Name some time. Can I bring him here? My brother Felicio, he’ll help us maybe, over us getting out.’
Felicio thought quickly, who is it? Who sleeps in the shed by Niger? ‘Is it the new Cappadocian?’ he asked, and Niger nodded. And I didn’t know Felicio thought, not a thing! Those two in that stinking shed, chained and sore half the time, whispering to one another, and old Niger helping this other poor bastard—I ought to have been doing it. Well anyway, I’ll see to squaring the porter sometimes. That’s not much. I’m glad I washed Niger’s feet last time; I’m glad I wanted to when it came to him. No end queer, that was. I shall be doing it again. I shall be washing the feet of this newcomer, this Cappadocian—can’t even think of his name—when he comes. There will be this joining us for ever. As you showed us, Jesus. The others were discussing it now, questioning Niger. Phaon said he would go over to Aelius Balbus’s house next time there was a chance and try to see this man: better not let him meet the whole Church yet, in case—
They dec
ided to hold the next meeting in Phineas’s kitchen. It was better, these days, not to have it twice running in the same place. They had not held one in the old boiler-room since the troubles. Phaon and the rest were all very careful in the house. None of them ever said a word to Lamprion and the others. But it was probable that any of the rest of the slaves who might have their suspicions would also know that anyone who informed the police of Phaon’s or Persis’s whereabouts, would be liable to be dealt with himself by the master.
Carpus had some questions to ask. And he wanted to show that he knew the Words. He only had the first meaning so far, the meaning on the surface. But which of us knows every meaning, Felicio thought—not I. Then Phaon looked all round from one member to another of his Church. ‘Friends, there are two who want to join us. Do we take them?’
Eprius went dead still, listening. After a moment Phineas said, ‘Let us hear them, friends.’
‘Who stands surety for them?’ Phaon asked formally.
‘I stand for Felicio,’ Niger said.
‘I stand for Eprius,’ said Eunice.
Phaon answered, ‘These are good sureties. We accept them.’ Then he spoke again. ‘You who are with us, but not of us yet, Abgar, Marulla and Carpus, you must go now.’ The two men said they would walk back with Marulla; it was safer. Phaon warned them not to say anything in the street which ought not to be overheard, even if they thought they were alone; you never knew, now. Abgar said goodnight and peace on them, rather gloomily, and suddenly Sapphira said, ‘Oh, I’m sure it’s going to be you soon, brother! God will give you understanding.’ When he had gone she excused herself. ‘He does want so much to be in! But he always gets something wrong, poor thing.’
There was a short pause and a little shifting and whispering, while Eunice opened her oven and took out the loaves, Niger helping her. Persis changed over to sit by Noumi; all came rather closer together. Counting the two new ones, they were twelve now; there were certain numbers that it was gladdening for them to be. The delicious smell of the hot bread filled all the bakery, making Felicio so faint that he had to slip down from the edge of the kneading trough and sit on the floor with his head between his knees. Bread. The common, the necessary thing, so dull or so desirable. Common life and necessary actions might also be beautiful, given love. The possibility of love. He hadn’t wanted love before; he had been content to be alone and intelligent and ironic, taking lightly what pleasures were to be had. Then he had loved Beric and that had been taken from him. And then? Was this feeling in his breast and head now love of mankind, or was it rather the urgent necessity for something obviously reasonable which was pressing on him?—which was pressing them together, breaking down barriers, making them feel towards one another in an unreasonable and irrational way. You might call it love. He looked up and realised that Eprius was in the middle of his confession.
The Blood of the Martyrs Page 45
