CHAPTER XXIII
THE CLOUD-BREAK
The acting magistrate turned to his fellow-quatuorvir, charged with co-ordinate judicial authority, on the left, and said: "Your nose is leaden-purple in hue."
"No marvel, in this cold. I ever suffer there with the least frost. My earlobes likewise are seats of chilblain."
"In this climate! Astonishing! If it had been in Britain, or in Germany,it might have been expected."
"My brother-magistrate," said Vibius Fuscianus, "I believe that here inthe south we are more sensible to frost than are those who live underhyperborean skies. There they expect cold, and take precautionsaccordingly. Here the blasts fall on us unawares. We groan and sigh tillthe sun shines out, and then forget our sufferings. Who but fools would behere to-day? Look above. The clouds hang low, and are so dark that we mayexpect to be pelted with hail."
"Aye," laughed Petronius, "as big as the pebbles that strew the Crauwherewith Hercules routed the Ligurians. Well; it is black as an eclipse.I will give thee a hint, Vibius mine! I have made my slave line thismarble seat with hot bricks. They are comforting to the spine, the verycolumn of life. Presently he will be here with another supply. You see weare not all fools. Some do make provision against the cold."
"I wish I had thought of this before."
"That is precisely the wish that crossed the mind of the poor wretch whomthe wolves have finished. He postponed his renunciation of Christ tilljust too late."
Then Lucius Petronius yawned, stretched himself, and signed that thefreedman who had robbed the master who had manumitted him, should bedelivered to a panther.
The wolves were with difficulty chased out of the arena, and then all wasprepared for this next exhibition. It was brief. The beast was hungry, andthe criminal exposed made little effort to resist. Next came the turn ofBaudillas.
Without raising himself in his seat, the Quatuorvir said languidly: "Youbroke out of prison, you were charged with aiding and abetting sacrilege.You refused to sacrifice to the genius of the Emperor. Well, if you willcast a few grains of incense in the fire, I will let you depart."
"I cannot forswear Christ," said Baudillas with a firmness that surprisednone so much as himself. But, indeed, the fall of Marcianus, so far fromdrawing him along into the same apostasy, had caused a recoil in his soul.To hear his fellow-ministrant deny Christ, to see him extend his hands forthe incense--that inspired him with an indignation which gave immense forceto his resolution. The Church had been dishonored, the ministry disgracedin Marcianus. Oh, that they might not be thus humbled in himself!
"Baudillas Macer," said the magistrate, "take advice, and be speedy inmaking your election; your fellow, who has just furnished a breakfast tothe wolves, hesitated a moment too long, and so lost his life. By the timehe had resolved to act as a wise man and a good citizen, not the godsthemselves could deliver him. _Flamen_, hand the shell with the grains tothis sensible fellow."
"I cannot offer sacrifice."
"You are guilty of treason against Caesar if you refuse to sacrifice to hisgenius. Never mind about Nemausus, whose image is there. Say--the genius ofCaesar, and you are quit."
"I am his most obedient subject."
"Then offer a libation or some frankincense."
"I cannot. I pray daily to God for him."
"A wilful man is like a stubborn ass. There is naught for him but thestick. I can do no more. I shall sentence you."
"I am ready to die for Christ."
"Then lead him away. The sword!"
The deacon bowed. "I am unworthy of shedding my blood for Christ," hesaid, and his voice, though low, was firm.
Then he looked around and saw the Bishop Castor in the zone allotted tothe citizens and knights. Baudillas crossed his arms on his breast andknelt on the sand, and the bishop, rising from his seat, extended his handin benediction.
He, Castor, had not been called to sacrifice. He had not courted death,but he had not shrunk from it. He had not concealed himself, neverthelesshe had been passed over.
Then the deacon, with firm step, walked into the center of the arena andknelt down.
In another moment his head was severed from the body.
The attendants immediately removed every trace of the execution, and nowarrived the moment for which all had looked with impatience.
The magistrate said: "Bring forward Perpetua, daughter of Aulus HarpiniusLaeto, that has lived."
At once AEmilius sprang into the arena and advanced before Petronius.
"Suffer me to act as her advocate," said he in an agitated voice. "Youknow me, I am Lentulus Varo."
"I know you very well by repute, AEmilius," answered the Quatuorvir; "but Ithink there is no occasion now for your services. This is not a court ofjustice in which your forensic eloquence can be heard, neither is this acase to be adjudicated upon, and calling for defence. The virgin waschosen by lot to be given to the god Nemausus, and was again demanded byhim speaking at midnight, after she had been rescued from his fountain, ifI mistake not, by you. Your power of interference ceased there. Now, sheis accused of nothing. She is reconsigned to the god, whose she is."
"I appeal to Caesar."
"If I were to allow the appeal, would that avail thy client? But it is nocase in which an appeal is justifiable. The god is merciful. He does notexact the life of the damsel, he asks only that she enter into his serviceand be a priestess at his shrine, that she pour libations before hisaltar, and strew rose leaves on his fountain. Think you that the Caesarwill interfere in such a matter? Think you that, were it to come beforehim, he would forbid this? But ask thy client if the appeal be accordingto her desire."
Perpetua shook her head.
"No, she is aware that it would be profitless. If thou desirest to serveher, then use thy persuasion and induce her to do sacrifice."
"Sir," said AEmilius in great agitation, "how can she become the votary ofa god in whom she does not believe?"
"Oh, as to that," answered the Quatuorvir, "it is a formality, nothingmore; a matter of incense and rose leaves. As to _belief_," he turned tohis fellow-magistrate, and said, laughing, "listen to this man. He talksof belief, as though that were a necessary ingredient in worship! Thou,with thy plum-colored nose, hast thou full faith in AEsculapius to curethee even of a chilblain?"
Fuscianus shrugged his shoulders. "I hate all meddlers with usages thatare customary. I hate them as I do a bit of grit in my salad. I put themaway."
The populace became impatient, shouted and stamped. Some, provided withempty gourds, in which were pebbles, rattled them, and made a strangesound as of a hailstorm. Others clacked together pieces of pottery. Themagistrate turned to the pontiff on his right and said: "We believe withall our hearts in the gods when we do sacrifice! Oh, mightily, I trow."Then he laughed again. The priest looked grave for a moment, and then helaughed also.
"Come now," said Lucius Petronius to the young lawyer, "to this I limitthy interference. Stand by the girl and induce her to yield. By the Bow-bearer! young men do not often fail in winning the consent of girls whenthey use their best blandishments. It will be a scene for the stage. Youhave plenty of spectators."
"Suffer me also to stand beside her," said the slave-woman Blanda, who hadnot left Perpetua.
"By all means. And if you two succeed, none will be better content thanmyself. I am not one who would wish a fair virgin a worse fate than tolive and be merry and grow old. Ah me! old age!"
Again the multitude shouted and rattled pumpkins.
"We are detaining the people in the cold," said the presiding magistrate;"the sports move sluggishly as does our blood." Then, aside to Fuscianus,"My bricks are becoming sensibly chilled. I require a fresh supply." Thento the maiden: "Hear me, Perpetua, daughter of Harpinius Laeto that was--weand the gods, or the gods and we, are indisposed to deal harshly. Throw afew crumbs of incense on the altar, and you shall pass at once up thosesteps to the row of seats where sit the white-robed
priestesses with theircrowns. I shall be well content."
"That is a thing I cannot do," said Perpetua firmly.
"Then we shall have to make you," said the magistrate in hard tones. Hewas angry, vexed. "You will prove more compliant when you have beenextended on the rack. Let her be disrobed and tortured."
Then descended into the arena two young men, who bowed to the magistrate,solicited leave, and drew forth styles or iron pens and tablets coveredwith wax. These were the scribes of the Church employed everywhere to takedown a record of the last interrogatory of a martyr. Such records werecalled the "Acts." Of them great numbers have been preserved, butunhappily rarely unfalsified. The simplicity of the acts, the stiffness ofstyle, the absence of all miraculous incident, did not suit the taste ofmediaeval compilers, and they systematically interpolated the earlier actswith harrowing details and records of marvels. Nevertheless, a certainnumber of these acts remain uncorrupted, and with regard to the rest it isnot difficult to separate in them that which is fictitious from that whichis genuine. Such notaries were admitted to the trials and executions withas much indifference as would be newspaper reporters nowadays.
Again, with the sweat of anguish breaking out on his brow, AEmiliusinterposed.
"I pray your mercy," he said; "let the sentence be still further modified.Suffer the damsel to be relieved of becoming a priestess. Let her becomemy wife, and I swear that I will make over my estate of Ad Fines to thetemple of the god Nemausus, with the villa upon it, and statues and worksof art."
"That is an offer to be entertained by the priesthood and not by me.Boy--hot bricks! and be quick about removing those which have become almostcold."
A pause ensued whilst the proposal of AEmilius was discussed between thechief priestess of the fountain and the Augustal _flamen_ and the otherpontiffs.
The populace became restless, impatient, noisy. They shouted, hooted;called out that they were tired of seeing nothing.
"Come," said Petronius, "I cannot further delay proceedings."
"We consent," said the chief pontiff.
"That is well."
Then AEmilius approached Perpetua, and entreated her to give way. To cast afew grains on the charcoal meant nothing; it was a mere movement of thehand, a hardly conscious muscular act, altogether out of comparison withthe results. Such compliance would give her life, happiness, and wouldplace her in a position to do vast good, and he assured her that his wholelife would be devoted to her service.
"I cannot," she said, looking AEmilius full in the face. "Do not think meungrateful; my heart overflows for what you have done for me, but I cannotdeny my Christ."
Again he urged her. Let her consent and he--even he would become aChristian.
"No," said she, "not at that price. You would be in heart for everestranged from the faith."
"To the rack! Lift her on to the little horse. Domitius Afer left hisbequest to the city in order that we should be amused, not befooled,"howled the spectators.
"Executioners, do your duty," said the magistrate. "But if she cry out,let her off. She will sacrifice. Only to the first hole--mind you. If thatdoes not succeed, well, then, we shall try sharper means."
And now the little horse was set up in the midst of the arena, andbraziers of glowing charcoal were planted beside it; in the fire restedcrooks and pincers to get red hot.
The "little horse" was a structure of timber. Two planks were set edgewayswith a wheel between them at each end. The structure stood on four legs,two at each extremity, spreading at the base. Halfway down, between theselegs, at the ends, was a roller, furnished with levers that passed throughthem. A rope was attached to the ankles, another to the wrists of theperson extended on the back of the "horse," and this rope was strainedover the pulleys by means of the windlasses. The levers could be turned toany extent, so as, if required, to wrench arms and legs from theirsockets.
And now ensued a scene that refuses description. "We are made a spectacleunto men and angels," said the apostle, and none could realize how truewere the words better than those who lived in times of persecution. Beforethat vast concourse the modest Christian maiden was despoiled of herraiment and was stretched upon the rack--swung between the planks.
AEmilius felt his head swim and his heart contract. What could he do? Againhe entreated, but she shook her head, yet turned at his voice and smiled.
Then the executioners threw themselves on the levers, and a hush as ofdeath fell on the multitude. Twenty thousand spectators looked on, twicethat number of eyes were riveted on the frail girl undergoing this agony.Bets had been made on her constancy, bandied about, taken, and booked.Castor stood up, with face turned to heaven, and extended arms, praying.
The creaking of the windlass was audible; then rang out a sharp cry ofpain.
Immediately the cords were relaxed and the victim lowered to the ground.Blanda threw a mantle over her.
"She will sacrifice," said AEmilius; "take off the cords."
The executioners looked to the magistrate. He nodded, and they obeyed. Thebonds were rapidly removed from her hands and feet.
"Blanda, sustain her!" commanded AEmilius, and he on one side, with his armround the sinking, quivering form, and the slave-woman on the other,supported Perpetua. Her feet dragged and traced a furrow in the sand; theywere numbed and powerless through the tension of the cords that had beenknotted about the ankles. AEmilius and Blanda drew her towards the altar.
"I cannot! I will not sacrifice! I am a Christian. I believe in Christ! Ilove Christ!"
"Perpetua," said AEmilius in agitated tones, "your happiness and minedepend on compliance. For all I have done for you, if you will not foryour own sake--consent to this. Here! I will hold your hand. Nay, it is Iwho will strew the incense, and make it appear as though it were done byyou. Priest! The shell with the grains."
"Spare me! I cannot!" gasped the girl, struggling in his arms. "I cannotbe false to my Christ--for all that He has done for me."
"You shall. I must constrain you." He set his teeth, knitted his brow. Allhis muscles were set in desperation. He strove to force her hand to thealtar.
"Shame on thee!" sobbed she. "Thou art more cruel than the torturer, moreunjust than the judge."
It was so. AEmilius felt that she was right. They did but insult and rack afrail body, and he did violence to the soul within.
The people hooted and roared, and brandished their arms threateningly. "Wewill not be balked! We are being treated to child's play."
"Take her back to the rack. Apply the fire," ordered the Quatuorvir.
The executioners reclaimed her. She offered no resistance. AEmiliusstaggered to the _podium_ and grasped the marble top with one hand.
She was again suspended on the little horse. Again the windlass creaked.The crowd listened, held its breath, men looked in each other's eyes, thenback to the scene of suffering. Not a sound; not a cry; no, not even asigh. She bore all.
"Try fire!" ordered the magistrate.
AEmilius had covered his face. He trembled. He would have shut his ears ashe did his eyes, could he have done so. Verily, the agony of his soul wasas great as the torture of her body. But there was naught to be heard--anominous stillness, only the groaning of the windlass, and now and then aword from one executioner to his fellow.
At every creak of the wheel a quiver went through the frame of AEmilius. Helistened with anguish of mind for a cry. The populace held its breath; itwaited. There was none. Into her face he dared not look. But the twentythousand spectators stared--and saw naught save lips moving in prayer.
And now a mighty wonder occurred.
The dense cloud that filled the heavens began softly, soundlessly, todischarge its burden. First came, scarce noticed, sailing down, a fewlarge white flakes like fleeces of wool. Then they came fast, faster, everfaster. And now it was as though a white bridal veil had been let down outof heaven to hide from the eyes of the ravening multitude the spectacle ofthe agony of Christ's martyr. None could see across the arena; soon non
ecould see obscurely into it. The snowflakes fell thick and dense, theymassed as a white cornice on the parapet, they dropped on every head, theywhitened the bloodstained, trampled sand. And all fled before the snow.First went a few in twos or threes; then whole rows stood up, and throughthe vomitories the multitude poured--freedmen, slaves, knights, ladies,_flamines_, magistrates; none could stand against the descending snow.
"Cast her down!" This was the last command issued by Petronius as he rosefrom his seat. The executioners were glad to escape. They relaxed theropes, and threw their victim on the already white ground.
Still thick and fast fell the fleeces. Blanda had cast a mantle of woolover the prostrate girl, but out of heaven descended a pall, whiter thanfuller on earth can bleach, and buried the woolen cloak and the extendedquivering limbs. Beside her, in the snow, knelt AEmilius. He held her handin one of his. She looked him in the face and smiled. Then she said: "Giveto Blanda her liberty."
He could not speak. He signed that it should be so.
Then she said: "I have prayed for thee--on the rack, in the fire--that thelight may shine into thy heart."
She closed her eyes.
Still he held her hand, and with the other gently brushed away thesnowflakes as they fell on her pure face. Oh wondrous face! Face above thedream of the highest Greek artist!
Thus passed an hour--thus a second.
Then suddenly the clouds parted, and the sun poured down a flood of gloryover the dazzling white oval field, in the midst of which lay a heap ofwhiteness, and on a face as of alabaster, inanimate, and on a kneeling,weeping man, still with reverent finger sweeping away the last snowflakesfrom eyelash, cheek and hair, and who felt as if he could thus look, andkneel, and weep for ever.(12)