Chapter XII: Part 12

Licinius took advantage of the first pause, to suggest that the Centurion seemed in a hurry to get rid of me. He then passed into an account of the speech he had delivered on the preceding afternoon before the Court of the Centumvirs, and of the unhesitating manner, so gratifying to his feelings, in which its judgment had been pronounced. For some moments, in his detail of these proceedings, he seemed almost to have lost sight of the present situation and views of the person most interested in their termination. But when, in the progress of his story, he came to enlarge upon the magnificence of my new possessions—the domains in Africa—the rich farms in Sicily—the numerous slaves engaged in their cultivation—the Spanish silver mine—and, last of all, the splendours of the great villa upon the banks of the Tiber—it was not difficult to perceive that he could scarcely restrain his indignation at the purpose I had been expressing. “And such,” said he, “are the realities which our young friend quits for the reasons he has mentioned! Well, every man must judge for himself. If it must be so, let it be so.”

I heard him patiently to the end, and then said, “You have well summed up the whole matter, my dear Licinius. It must indeed be so. I go immediately to Britain, and I trust she—for whom I would leave all these things, were they greater than they are—shall, by the aid of your kindness, go with me in safety. There is one request only which I have, in addition to all this, to lay before you; and that you may hear it the more patiently, it does not concern myself.

“In a word, then,” I continued, “should happier days arrive, I hope once more to be among you here in Rome. The wealth which, thanks to your zeal, Licinius, is this day mine, can be of little use to me in the British valley, to which, for the present, I retire. Above all, this beautiful villa of which you speak,—why, because for a time I am unable to occupy it, should the mansion of my fathers stand empty, when there are others among their descendants, who lie not under the same necessity of exile? Till I am enabled to breathe in freedom the air of Italy, I trust Licinius will consent to let Sextus represent me in my villa. There, too, I hope Sempronius will permit his daughter to be. It will give pleasure to Athanasia, to think that those halls contain the dearest of our friends. When we come back, if ever we do so, they will not grudge to make room for us beneath the same roof with themselves. Licinius—Sempronius—what say you?”

They were both silent for a moment; but Sabinus was at hand to answer for them:—“By all Olympus! I shall knock down any man henceforth, that in my presence abuses Christianity as a destruction of men’s hearts. Let it be, good friends, as our Caius says. I know, Sextus, I have at least your voice upon my side. Let it be so; and, for heaven’s sake, let it be immediately. A wedding is the very thing to divert attention from these troubles in both kindreds.”

Our conversation was interrupted by Dromo, who told me that Silo the jailer had come to see me, and was below in the hall. There I found the humane man, with his little daughter in his hand, and walked aside with him into the inner portico of the house. I told him how the escape, for which his zeal alone was to be thanked, had been terminated—and to what resolution I had now come;—and then inquired whether no suspicion had been attached to himself, in consequence of his absence from the Capitoline. Having assured me that he had no reason to think so,—“The oath which I had taken to Trajan,” said he, “prevented me from adopting the simpler course of setting open for our dear friends the gates of the Mammertine; and I trust that I did not offend against that oath by acting as I did, after they had been taken away for the time from my keeping. But both they and you must be aware of the pain which I suffered during their confinement, and of the dangers which I have encountered by their escape. I am resolved no more to be subject to such struggles. I cannot preserve my faith as a Christian, and my honour as a servant of Trajan. This very day I resign my charge in the Mammertine; this very night, if it so please you, I am ready to accompany you and my dear young lady, in your flight to Britain.”

I need not say with what gladness I heard this proposal. Returning to my friends, I informed them of what I had just heard, and perceiving now at last that there was no chance of diverting me from my project, they entered, like true friends, into serious consultation respecting the best method of carrying my project into execution. The aid of Silo, who had already given such proofs both of presence of mind, and of prudence, and courage, was regarded by them as of the highest importance. He was shortly summoned to take part in our deliberation, and it was resolved, that after resigning in a formal manner the office he held, and transferring his property for the present into the custody of Licinius, he should forthwith repair to Ostium, and there hire and put in readiness, for immediate use, a small vessel, the lightest he could find, in which the fugitive party might transport themselves at least as far as Corsica. To this the zealous Silo without hesitation assented. It was agreed that he should have the mariners on their benches by the coming on of night, and that he himself should be waiting for us by a certain ruined tower, which stands conspicuously by the river side, about a mile and a half above Ostium. We left it to Silo himself, to stock the bark with any merchandise which he might deem best adapted to deceive the superintendents of the haven.

Partly from the necessity of making provision of various kinds for this voyage, but still more in consequence of the law-suit, with the termination of which you have just been made acquainted, I had no leisure that day, from which to work out unnecessary pain either for myself or for others. I had to assist Licinius in looking over an infinity of deeds, and to superintend the drawing out of others. In the next place, I had to go to the Forum for the purpose of manumitting some slaves, (such a largess being naturally expected); and while I was occupied with this, need I tell you, that my own poor Briton was not forgotten? Licinius having, at the joint request of Sextus and myself, accorded that morning to the Cretan also the well-merited gift of his liberty, Boto and Dromo were seen strutting about the Forum together for some moments, each arrayed in that worshipful cap which had formed the most prominent object in their day-dreams of felicity. I shall not trouble you with needless particulars. Let it suffice, that the greater part of the day was thus spent in unavoidable business.

Towards evening, I stole privately from my kinsman’s house, being willing to avoid a formal farewell, and repaired to Sabinus, who received me with very lively emotion. What he dwelt upon most fervently, however, was the probability—the certainty he seemed to esteem it—that a persecution of this nature could not be long persisted in by such a prince as Trajan; and the pleasure with which, that being all at an end, he should see me come back to Rome, and take due possession of the inheritance of my fathers. After expatiating most fluently for some minutes on the expected delights of that day, he paused suddenly, and then added, in a tone of some little hesitation, “And as for me, I wonder in what state you shall find me. Rich or poor—married or single—Centurion or Tribune—one thing is certain, that I shall, in all circumstances, be not a little rejoiced to see you.”

“You had better marry, my good captain,” said I.

“Marry! me to marry? I have not the least thought of such a thing. You did not put any faith, did you, in the raillery of those waggish fellows of yesterday?”

“A little—a very little, Sabinus.”

“Poh! poh! now you are jesting.”

“And much, very much, Sabinus, in the conscious looks of a certain blushing Centurion, yesterday.”

“Come,” quoth he, “there is more cunning in these British eyes than I ever should have dreamt of. Fill your cup to the brim, boy, and since you are to leave us so speedily, I shall have no secrets for you. I have seen service;—true, but what of that? I have kept a light heart in all my campaigns. But my day, it must be confessed, begins to wear a little, a very little, towards the evening; and, Castor! if you allow supper-time to slip over, I don’t know but you must go to bed with a light stomach. Now or never was the word, my boy; and the widow is mine own.”

“And Xerophrastes?” said I.

“And as for the most sagacious and venerable Xerophrastes, why, to tell you the truth, I see nothing for him but that he should allow his beard to curl as it pleases, drop his long cloak over his ambitious pair of shanks, forswear moonlight, purchase for himself a dark lantern instead, and see whether he can’t find, within the four walls of Rome, an honest Greek, and a constant widow, to make one blessed wedding withal. That is my advice to the Stoic—Stoic no longer—but, if there be hoops upon a tub, the most cynical of all Cynics.”

When it was at last necessary that I should move—“Dear Caius,” said the Centurion, “you know the Prefect has set a price on their heads, and I promise you it is such a temptation as no virtue, that keeps watch beneath any common prætorian breast-plate, could well be trusted to wrestle with. But hope, and dare. And here, take once more this helmet, and cloak, and sword, and with them share the password of the night.”

Sabinus then gave private orders to one of his troop, and walked with me towards the Esquiline.—But why should I linger over what little remains of this story? Why pain you with the parting which I witnessed between my Athanasia and the holy Aurelius, afterwards numbered among the martyrs of Christ?—Behold us at last issued from the Catacombs, and mounted on the trusty horses which our friend had caused to be waiting at no great distance from the thicket that clothed their entrance. Behold us arrived without interruption at the Ostian Gate of Rome.

The soldiers on guard challenged us cheerily as we came up to them.

“The word, comrades?”

“_Titus!_” quoth the Centurion.

“Pass on—whom bear you with you, comrades!”

“A Christian—a Christian prisoner,” said I.

“By Jove, that’s worth gold to you, brother,” quoth the guard.—“Open the gate there;—pass on, friends. I hope I shall have luck one day myself.”

FINIS.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.

FOOTNOTES

1 “Concerning the nature of the Bacchic Stimulus.”

2 These were the principal conspirators by whom Domitian was slain.
They were afterwards butchered by the Prætorians, who regretted the
tyrant; and it was supposed to be chiefly in consequence of that
slaughter, and its shameful consequences to himself, (for he was
compelled, among other insults, to return public thanks to the
butchers,) that Nerva called to his aid the personal vigour and high
military genius of Trajan.

3 ——Catonem
Novisti moriens vincere, mollis Otho.

4 So Pope has rendered the beautiful lines:

Hujus Nympha Loci, sacri custodia fontis,
Dormio, dum blandæ sentio murmur aquæ;
Parce meum, quisquis tangis cava marmora, somnum
Rumpere; sive bibas, sive lavere, tace.

5 Asinius autem brevi illo tempore quasi in hortulos in _arenarias_
quasdam juxta portam Exquiliniam perductus, occiditur.—Cic. _Pro
Cluent._

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Variations in hyphenation (e.g. “eyebrows”, “eye-brows”; “godlike”, “god-like”) have not been changed.

Other changes, which have been made to the text:

page 72, question mark added after “him”, quote mark added before
“His”
page 267, “Aybss” changed to “Abyss”
page 307, “Capito” changed to “Capitol”