Baring-Gould Sabine
Perpetua. A Tale of Nimes in A.D. 213
CHAPTER XXI
A MANUMISSION
“Blanda, what shall I do?”
Æmilius had withdrawn immediately after the interview in the citron-house, and Perpetua was left a prey to even greater distress of mind than before.
Accustomed to lean on her mother, she was now without support. She drew towards the female slave, who had a patient, gentle face, marked with suffering.
“Blanda, what shall I do?”
“Mistress, how can I advise? If you had been graciously pleased to take counsel of my master, he would have instructed you.”
“Alack! what I desire is to find my mother. If, as I suppose, she is in concealment in Nemausus, he will be unable to discover her. No clue will be put into his hand. He will be regarded with suspicion. He will search; I do not doubt his good will, but he will not find. Those who know where my mother is will look on him with suspicion. O Blanda, is there none in this house who believes, whom I could send to some of the Church?”
“Lady,” answered the slave, “there be no Christians here. There is a Jew, but he entertains a deadly hate of such as profess to belong to this sect. To the rest one religion is as indifferent as another. Some swear by the White Ladies, some by Serapis, and there is one who talks much of Mithras, but who this god is I know not.”
“If I am to obtain information it must be through some one who is to be trusted.”
“Lady,” said the woman-slave, “the master has given strict orders that none shall speak of you as having found a shelter here. Yet when slaves get together, by the Juno of the oaks, I believe men chatter and are greater magpies than we women; their tongues run away with them, especially when they taste wine. If one of the family were sent on this commission into the town, ten sesterces to an as, he would tell that you are here, and would return as owlish and ignorant as when he went forth. Men’s minds are cudgels, not awls. If thou desirest to find out a thing, trust a woman, not a man.”
“I cannot rest till I have news.”
“There has been a great search made after Christians, and doubtless she is, as thou sayest, in concealment, surely among friends. Have patience.”
“But, Blanda, she is in an agony of mind as to what has become of me.”
The slave-woman considered for awhile, and then said:
“There is a man who might help; he certainly can be relied on. He is of the strange sect I know, and he would do anything for me, and would betray no secrets.”
“Who is that?”
“His name is Pedo, and he is the slave to Baudillas Macer, son of Carisius Adgonna, who has a house in the lower town.”
“O Blanda!” exclaimed Perpetua, “it was from the house of Baudillas that I was enticed away.” Then, after some hesitation, she added: “That house, I believe, was invaded by the mob; but I think my mother had first escaped.”
“Lady, I have heard that Baudillas has been taken before the magistrate, and has been cast into the robur, because that in his house was found the head of the god; and it was supposed that he was guilty of the sacrilege, either directly or indirectly. He that harbors a thief is guilty as the thief. I heard that yesterday. No news has since been received. I mistrust my power of reaching the town, of standing against the gale. Moreover, as the master has been imprisoned, it is not likely that the slave will be in the empty house. Yet, if thou wilt tarry till the gale be somewhat abated and the rain cease to fall in such a rush, I will do my utmost to assist thee. I will go to the town myself, and communicate with Pedo, if I can find him. He will trust me, poor fellow!”
“I cannot require thee to go forth in this furious wind,” said Perpetua.
“And, lady, thou must answer to my master for me. Say that I went at thine express commands; otherwise I shall be badly beaten.”
“Is thy master so harsh?”
“Oh, I am a slave. Who thinks of a slave any more than of an ass or a lapdog? It was through a severe scourging with the cat that I was brought to know Pedo.”
“Tell me, how was that?”
“Does my lady care for matters that affect her slave?”
“Nay, good Blanda, we Christians know no difference between bond and free. All are the children of one God, who made man. Our master, though Lord of all, made Himself of no reputation, but took on Him the form of a servant; and was made subject for us.”
“That is just how Pedo talks. We slaves have our notions of freedom and equality, and there is much tall talk in the servants’ hall on the rights of man. But I never heard of a master or mistress holding such opinions.”
“Nevertheless this doctrine is a principle of our religion. Listen to this; the words are those of one of our great teachers: ‘There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.’ ”
“Was he a slave who said that?”
“No; he was a Roman citizen.”
“That I cannot understand. Yet perhaps he spoke it at an election time, or when he was an advocate in the forum. It was a sentiment; very fine, smartly put, but not to be practiced.”
“There, Blanda, you are wrong. We Christians do act upon this principle, and it forms a bond of union between us.”
“Well, I understand it not. I have heard the slaves declaim among themselves, saying that they were as good as, nay, better than, their masters; but they never whispered such a thought where were their masters’ ears, or they would have been soundly whipped. In the forum, when lawyers harangue, they say fine things of this sort; and when candidates are standing for election, either as a sevir or as a quatuorvir, all sorts of fine words fly about, and magnificent promises are made, but they are intended only to tickle ears and secure votes. None believe in them save the vastly ignorant and the very fools.”
“Come, tell me about thyself and Pedo.”
“Ah, lady, that was many years ago. I was then in the household of Helvia Secundilla, wife of Calvius Naso. On one occasion, because I had not brought her May-dew wherewith to bathe her face to remove sun-spots, she had me cruelly beaten. There were knucklebones knotted in the cat wherewith I was beaten. Thirty-nine lashes I received. I could not collect May-dew, for the sky was overcast and the herb was dry. But she regarded not my excuse. Tullia, my fellow-slave, was more sly. She filled a flask at a spring and pretended that she had gathered it off the grass, and that her fraud might not be detected, she egged her mistress on against me. I was chastised till my back was raw.”
“Poor Blanda!”
“Aye, my back was one bleeding wound, and yet I was compelled to put on my garment and go forth again after May-dew. It was then that I encountered Pedo. I was in such pain that I walked sobbing, and my tears fell on the arid grass. He came to me, moved by compassion, and spoke kindly, and my heart opened, and I told him all. Then he gave me a flask filled with a water in which elder flowers had been steeped, and bade me wash my back therewith.”
“And it healed thee?”
“It soothed the fever of my blood and the anguish of my wounds. They closed, and in a few days were cicatriced. But Pedo had been fellow-slave with a Jewish physician, and from him had learned the use of simples. My mistress found no advantage from the spring-water brought her as May-dew. Then I offered her some of the decoction given me by Pedo, and that had a marvelous effect on her freckles. Afterwards her treatment of me was kinder, and it was Tullia who received the whippings.”
“And did you see more of Pedo?”
Blanda colored.
“Mistress, that was the beginning of our acquaintance. He was with a good master, Baudillas Macer, who, he said, would manumit him at any time. But, alas! what would that avail me? I remained in bondage. Ah, lady, Pedo regarded me with tenderness, and, indeed, I could have been happy with none other but him.”
“He is old and lame.”
“Ah, lady, I think the way he moves on his lame hip quite beautiful. I do not admire legs when one is of the same length as another – it gives a stiff uniformity not to my taste.”
“And he is old?”
“Ripe, lady – full ripe as a fig in August. Sour fruit are unpleasant to eat. Young men are prigs and think too much of themselves.”
“How long ago was it that this acquaintance began?”
“Five and twenty years. I trusted, when my master, Calvius Naso – he was so called because he really had a long nose, and my mistress was wont to tweak it – but there! I wander. I did think that he would have given me my freedom. In his illness I attended to him daily, nightly. I did not sleep, I was ever on the watch for him. As to my mistress, she was at her looking-glass, and using depilatory fluid on some hairs upon her chin, expecting shortly to be a widow. She did not concern herself about the master. He died, but left money only for the erection of a statue in the forum. Me he utterly forgot. Then my mistress sold me to the father of my present master. When he died also he manumitted eight slaves, but they were all men. His monument stands beside the road to Tolosa, with eight Phrygian caps sculptured on it, to represent the manumissions; but me – he forgot.”
“Then, for all these five and twenty years you have cared for Pedo and desired to be united to him!”
“Yes, I longed for it greatly for twenty years, and so did he, poor fellow; but, after that, hope died. I have now no hope, no joy in life, no expectation of aught. Presently will come death, and death ends all.”
“No, Blanda; that is not what we hold. We look for eternal life.”
“For masters, not for slaves.”
“For slaves as well as masters, and then God will wipe away all tears from our eyes.”
“Alack, mistress. The power to hope is gone from me. In a wet season, when there is little sun, then the fruit mildews on the tree and drops off. When we were young we put forth the young fruit of hopes; but there has been no sun. They fall off, and the tree can bear no more.”
“Blanda, if ever I have the power – ”
“Oh, mistress, with my master you can do anything.”
“Blanda, I do not know that I can ask him for this – thy freedom. But, if the opportunity offers, I certainly will not forget thee.”
A slave appeared at the door and signed to Blanda, who, with an obeisance, asked leave to depart. The leave was given, and she left the room.
Presently she returned in great excitement, followed by Baudillas and Pedo, both drenched with rain and battered by the gale.
Perpetua uttered an exclamation of delight, and rushed to the deacon with extended arms.
“I pray, I pray, give me some news of my mother.”
But he drew back likewise surprised, and replied with another question:
“The Lady Perpetua! And how come you to be here?”
“That I will tell later,” answered the girl. “Now inform me as to my mother.”
“Alas!” replied Baudillas, wiping the rain from his face, “the news is sad. She has been taken before Petronius, and has been consigned to prison.”
“My mother is in prison!”
The deacon desired to say no more, but he was awkward at disguising his unwillingness to speak the whole truth. The eager eyes of the girl read the hesitation in his face.
“I beseech you,” she urged, “conceal nothing from me.”
“I have told you, she is in jail.”
“On what charge? Who has informed against her?”
“I was not in the court when she was tried. I know very little. I was near the town, waiting about, and I got scraps of information from some of our people, and from Pedo, who went into the city.”
“Then you do know. Answer me truly. Tell me all.”
“I – I was in prison myself, but escaped through the aid of Pedo. I tarried in an old kiln. He advised that I should come on here, where he had friends. Dost thou know that Marcianus has been sentenced? He will win that glorious crown which I have lost. I – I, unworthy, I fled, when it might have been mine. Yet, God forgive me! I am not ungrateful to Pedo. Marcianus said I was a coward, and unfit for the Kingdom of God; that I should be excluded because I had turned back. God forgive me!”
Suddenly Perpetua laid hold of Baudillas by both arms, and so gripped him that the water oozed between her fingers and dropped on the floor.
“I adjure thee, by Him in whom we both believe, answer me truly, speak fully. Is my mother retained in prison till I am found?”
The deacon looked down nervously, uncomfortably, and shuffled from foot to foot.
“Understand,” said he, after a long silence, “all I learned is by hearsay. I really know nothing for certain.”
“I suffer more by your silence than were I to be told the truth, be the truth never so painful.”
“Have I not said it? The Lady Quincta is in prison.”
“Is that all?”
Again he maintained an embarrassed silence.
“It matters not,” said Perpetua firmly. “I will my own self find out what has taken place. I shall return to Nemausus on foot, and immediately. I will deliver myself up to the magistrate and demand my mother’s release.”
“You must not go – the weather is terrible.”
“I shall – nothing can stay me. I shall go, and go alone, and go at once.”
“There is no need for such haste. It is not till to-morrow that Quincta will be put on the rack.”
“On the rack!”
“Fool that I am! I have uttered what I should have kept secret.”
“It is said. My resolve is formed. I return to Nemausus.”
“Then,” said the deacon, “I will go with thee.”
“There is no need. I will take Blanda.”
“I will go. A girl, a young girl shames me. I run away from death, and she offers herself to the sword. Marcianus said I was a renegade. I will not be thought to have denied my Master – to have fled from martyrdom.”
“Then,” said Perpetua, “I pray thee this – first give freedom unto Pedo.”
Baudillas administered a slight stroke on the cheek to his slave, and said:
“Go; thou art discharged from bondage.”
CHAPTER XXII
THE ARENA
The games that were to be given in the amphitheater of Nemausus on the nones of March were due to a bequest of Domitius Afer, the celebrated, or rather infamous, informer and rhetorician, who had brought so many citizens of Rome to death during the principate of Tiberius. He had run great risk himself under Caligula, but had escaped by a piece of adroit flattery. In dying he bequeathed a large sum out of his ill-gotten gains – the plunder of those whom he had destroyed, and whose families he had ruined – to be expended in games in the amphitheater on the nones of March, for the delectation of the citizens, and to keep his memory green in his native city.
The games were to last two days. On the first there would be contests with beasts, and on the second a water combat, when the arena would be flooded and converted into a lake.
Great anxiety was entertained relative to the weather. Unless the mistral ceased and the rain passed away, it would be impossible for the sports to be held. It was true that the entire oval could be covered in by curtains and mats, stretched between poles, but this contrivance was intended as shelter against sun and not rain. Moreover, the violence of the wind had rendered it quite impossible to extend the curtains.
The town was in the liveliest excitement. The man guilty of having mutilated the statue had been sentenced to be cast to the beasts, and this man was no vulgar criminal out of the slums, but belonged to one of the superior “orders.”
That a great social change had taken place in the province, and that the freedmen had stepped into power and influence, to the displacement of their former masters, was felt by the descendants of the first Ægypto-Greek colonists, and by the relics of the Gaulish nobility, but they hardly endured to admit the fact in words. The exercise of the rights of citizenship, the election of the officials, the qualification for filling the superior secular and religious offices, belonged to the decurion or noble families. Almost the sole office open to those below was that of the seviri; and yet even in elections the freedmen were beginning to exhibit a power of control.
Now, one of the old municipal families was to be humbled by a member being subjected to the degradation of death in the arena, and none of the Falerii ventured to raise a voice in his defence, so critical did they perceive the situation to be. The sodality of the Augustals in conclave had determined that an example was to be made of Marcianus, and had made this plain to the magistrates. They had even insisted on the manner of his execution. His death would be a plain announcement to the decurion class that its domination was at an end. The ancient patrician and plebeian families of Rome had been extinguished in blood, and their places filled by a new nobility of army factors and money-lenders. A similar revolution had taken place in the provinces by less bloody means. There, the transfer of power was due largely to the favor of the prince accorded to the freedmen.
In the Augustal colleges everywhere, the Cæsar had a body of devoted adherents, men without nationality, with no historic position, no traditions of past independence; men, moreover, who were shrewd enough to see that by combination they would eventually be able to wrest the control of the municipal government from those who had hitherto exercised it.
The rumor spread rapidly that a fresh entertainment was to be provided. The damsel who had been rescued from the basin of Nemausus had surrendered herself in order to obtain the release of her mother; and the magistrate in office, Petronius Atacinus, out of consideration for the good people of the town, whom he loved, and out of reverence for the gods who had been slighted, had determined that she should be produced in the arena, and there obliged publicly to sacrifice, and then to be received into the priesthood. Should she, however, prove obdurate, then she would be tortured into compliance.
Nor was this all. Baudillas Macer, the last scion of a decayed Volcian family, who had been cast into the pit of the robur, but had escaped, was also to be brought out and executed, as having assisted in the rescue of Perpetua from the fountain, but chiefly for having connived at the crime of Falerius Marcianus.
To the general satisfaction, the wind fell as suddenly as it had risen, and that on the night preceding the sports. The weather remained bitterly cold, and the sky was dark with clouds that seemed ready to burst. Not a ray of sunlight traveled across the arena and climbed the stages of the amphitheater. The day might have been one in November, and the weather that encountered on the northern plains of Germania.
The townsfolk, and the spectators from the country, came provided against the intemperance of the weather, wrapped in their warmest mantles, which they drew as hoods over their heads. Slaves arrived, carrying boxes with perforated tops, that contained glowing charcoal, so that their masters and mistresses might keep their feet warm whilst attending the games. Some carried cushions for the seats, others wolf-skin rugs to throw over the knees of the well-to-do spectators.
The ranges of the great oval were for the most part packed with spectators. The topmost seats were full long before the rest. The stone benches were divided into tiers. At the bottom, near the podium or breastwork confining the arena, were those for the municipal dignitaries, for the priests, and for certain strangers to whom seats had been granted by decree of the town council. Here might be read, “Forty seats decreed to the navigators of the Rhône and Saone;” at another part of the circumference, “Twenty-five places appointed to the navigators of the Ardèche and the Ouvèze.”
Above the ranges of seats set apart for the officials and guests were those belonging to the decurions and knights, the nobility and gentry of the town and little republic. The third range was that allotted to the freedmen and common townsfolk and peasants from the country, and the topmost stage was abandoned to be occupied by slaves alone. At one end of the ellipse sat the principal magistrates close to the podium at one end, and at the other the master of the games and his attendants, the prefect of the watch and of the firemen.
Two doors, one at each end, gave access to the arena, or means of exit. One was that of the vivarium, whence the gladiators and prisoners issued from a large chamber under the seats and feet of the spectators. The other door was that which conducted to the libitinum, into which were cast the corpses of men and the carcasses of beasts that had perished in the games.
Immediately below the seat of the principal magistrates and of the pontiffs was a little altar, on the breastwork about the arena, with a statue of Nemausus above it; and a priest stood at the side to keep the charcoal alight, and to serve the incense to such as desired to do homage to the god.
It was remarked that the attendance in the reserved seats of the decurions was meager. Such as were connected with the Falerian family by blood or marriage made it a point to absent themselves; others stayed away because huffed at the insolence of the freedmen, and considering that the sentence passed on Marcianus was a slight cast on their order.
On the other hand, the freedmen crowded to the show in full force, and not having room to accommodate themselves and their families in the zone allotted to them, some audaciously threw themselves over the barriers of demarcation and were followed by others, and speedily flooded the benches of the decurions.
When the magistrates arrived, preceded by their lictors, all in the amphitheater rose, and the Quatuor-viri bowed to the public. Each took a pinch from the priest, who extended a silver shell containing aromatic gums, and cast it on the fire, some gravely, Petronius with a flippant gesture. Then the latter turned to the Augustal flamen, saying: “To the god Augustus and the divine Julia (Livia),” and he threw some more grains on the charcoal.
“Body of Bacchus!” said he, as he took his seat, “a little fizzling spark such as that may please the gods, but does not content me. I wish I had a roaring fire at which, like a babe out of its bath, I could spread my ten toes and as many fingers. Such a day as this is! With cold weather I cannot digest my food properly. I feel a lump in me as did Saturn when his good Rhea gave him a meal of stones. I am full of twinges. By Vulcan and his bellows! if it had not been for duty I would have been at home adoring the Lares and Penates. These shows are for the young and warm-blooded. The arms of my chair send a chill into my marrow-bones. What comes first? Oh! a contest with a bull. Well, I shall curl up and doze like a marmot. Wake me, good Smerius, when the next portion of the entertainment begins.”
A bull was introduced, and a gladiator was employed to exasperate and play with the beast. He waved a garment before its eyes, then drove a sharp instrument into its flank, and when the beast turned, he nimbly leaped out of the way. When pursued he ran, then turned sharply, put his hands on the back of the bull, and leaped over it.
The people cheered, but they had seen the performance so often repeated that they speedily tired of such poor sport. The bull was accordingly dispatched. Horses were introduced and hooked to the carcass, which was rapidly drawn out. Then entered attendants of the amphitheater, who strewed sand where the blood had been spilt, bowed and retired.
Thereupon the jailer threw open the gates of the vivarium and brought forth the prisoners. These consisted of the taverner who had murdered his guests, the manumitted slave who had robbed his master, Baudillas, Marcianus and Perpetua.
A thrill of cruel delight ran through the concourse of spectators. Now something was about to be shown them, harrowing to the feelings, gratifying to the ferocity that is natural to all men, and is expelled, not at all by civilization, but by divine grace only.
It enhanced the pleasure of the spectators that criminals should witness the death of their fellows. Eyes scanned their features, observed whether they turned sick and faint, whether they winced, or whether they remained cool and callous. This gave a cruel zest to their enjoyment.
A bear was produced. Dogs were set on him, and he was worried till he shook off his torpor and was worked into fury. Then, at a sign from the manager of the games, the dogs were called off, and the man who had murdered his guests was driven forward towards the incensed beast.
The fellow was sullen, and gave no token of fear. He folded his arms, leaned against the marble podium, and looked contemptuously around him at the occupants of the tiers of seats.
The bear, relieved from his aggressors, seemed indisposed to notice the man.
Then the spectators roared to the criminal, bidding him invite the brute against himself. It was a strange fact that often in these horrible exhibitions a man condemned to fight with the beasts allowed himself a brief display of vanity, and sought to elicit the applause of the spectators by his daring conduct to the animal that was to mangle and kill him.
But the ill-humored fellow would not give this pleasure to the onlookers.
Then the master of the sports signed to the attendants to goad the bear. They obeyed, and he turned and growled and struck at them, but would not touch the man designed to be hugged by him.
After many vain attempts, amidst the hooting and roar of the people, a sign was made. Some gladiators leaped in, and with their swords dispatched the taverner.
The spectators were indignant. They had been shown no sport, only a common execution. They were shivering with cold; some grumbled, and said that this was childish stuff to witness which was not worth the discomfort of the exposure. Then, as with one voice, rose the yell: “The wolves! send in the wolves! Marcianus to the wolves!”
The master of the games dispatched a messenger to the Quatuorvir who was then the acting magistrate. He nodded to what was said, waved his hand in the direction of the master’s box, and the latter sent an attendant to the keeper of the beasts.
The jailer-executioner at once grasped the deacon Falerius Marcianus by the shoulders, bade him descend some steps and enter the arena.
Marcianus was deadly white. He shrank with disgust from the spot where the soil was drenched with the blood of the taverner, and which was not as yet strewn over with fresh sand. He cast a furtive look at the altar, then made an appealing gesture to the magistrate.
“Come here, Cneius Marcianus,” said Petronius. “You belong to a respectable and ancient family. You have been guilty of an infamous deed that has brought disgrace on your entire order. See how many absent themselves this day on that account! Your property is confiscated, you are sentenced to death. Yet I give you one chance. Sacrifice to the gods and blaspheme Christ. I do not promise you life if you do this. You must appeal to the people. If they see you offer incense, they will know that you have renounced the Crucified. Then I will put the question to their decision. If they hold up their thumbs you will live. Consider, it is a chance; it depends, not on me, but on their humor. Will you sacrifice?”
Marcianus looked at the mighty hoop of faces. He saw that the vast concourse was thrilled with expectation; a notion crossed the mind of one of the freedmen that Marcianus was being given a means of escape, and he shouted words that, though audible and intelligible to those near, were not to be caught by such as were distant. But the purport of his address was understood, and produced a deafening, a furious roar of remonstrance.
“I will not sacrifice,” said the deacon; “I am a Christian.”
Then Petronius Atacinus raised his hand, partly to assure the spectators that he was not opposing their wishes, partly as a signal to the master of the games.
Instantly a low door in the barrier was opened, and forth rushed a howling pack of wolves. When they had reached the center of the arena, they stood for a moment snuffing, and looked about them in questioning attitudes. Some, separating from the rest, ran with their snouts against the ground to where the recent blood had been spilt. But, all at once, a huge gray wolf, that led the pack, uttered a howl, and made a rush and a leap towards Marcianus; and the rest followed.
The sight was too terrible for the deacon to contemplate it unmoved. He remained but for an instant as one frozen, and then with a cry he started and ran round the ellipse, and the whole gray pack tore after him. Now and then, finding that they gained on him, he turned with threatening gestures that cowed the brutes; but this was for a moment only. Their red eyes, their gleaming teeth filled the wretched man with fresh terror, and again he ran.
The spectators clapped their hands – some stood up on their seats and laughed in ecstasy of enjoyment. Once, twice he made the circuit of the arena; and his pace, if possible, became quicker. The delight of the spectators became an intoxication. It was exquisite. Fear in the flying man became frantic. His breath, his strength were failing. Then suddenly he halted, half turned, and ran to the foot of the barrier before the seat of the Quatuor-viri, and extended his hand: “Give me the incense! I worship Nemausus! I adore Augustus! I renounce Christ!”
At the same moment the old monster wolf had seized him from behind. The arms of the deacon were seen for an instant in the air. The spectators stamped and danced and cheered – the dense gray mass of writhing, snarling beasts closed over the spot where Marcianus had fallen!
