_ IN fact, Petronius kept his promise. He slept all the day following
his visit to Chrysothemis, it is true; but in the evening he gave
command to bear him to the Palatine, where he had a confidential
conversation with Nero; in consequence of this, on the third day a
centurion, at the head of some tens of pretorian soldiers, appeared
before the house of Plautius.
The period was uncertain and terrible. Messengers of this kind
were more frequently heralds of death. So when the centurion
struck the hammer at Aulus's door, and when the guard of the
atrium announced that there were soldiers in the anteroom, terror
rose through the whole house. The family surrounded the old
general at once, for no one doubted that danger hung over him
above all. Pomponia, embracing his neck with her arms, clung to
him with all her strength, and her blue lips moved quickly while
uttering some whispered phrase. Lygia, with a face pale as linen,
kissed his hand; little Aulus clung to his toga. From the corridor,
from chambers in the lower story intended for servant-women and
attendants, from the bath, from the arches of lower dwellings, from
the whole house, crowds of slaves began to hurry out, and the cries
of "Heu! heu, me miserum!" were heard. The women broke into
great weeping; some scratched their cheeks, or covered their heads
with kerchiefs.
Only the old general himself, accustomed for years to look death
straight in the eye, remained calm, and his short eagle face became
as rigid as if chiselled from stone. After a while, when he had
silenced the uproar, and commanded the attendants to disappear,
he said, -- "Let me go, Pomponia. If my end has come, we shall
have time to take leave."
And he pushed her aside gently; but she said, -- "God grant thy fate
and mine to be one, O Aulus!"
Then, failing on her knees, she began to pray with that force which
fear for some dear one alone can give.
Aulus passed out to the atrium, where the centurion was waiting
for him. It was old Caius Hasta, his former subordinate and
companion in British wars.
"I greet thee, general," said he. "I bring a command, and the
greeting of Caesar; here are the tablets and the signet to show that
I come in his name."
"I am thankful to Caesar for the greeting, and I shall obey the
command," answered Aulus. "Be welcome, Hasta, and say what
command thou hast brought."
"Aulus Plautius," began Hasta, "Caesar has learned that in thy
house is dwelling the daughter of the king of the Lygians, whom
that king during the life of the divine Claudius gave into the hands
of the Romans as a pledge that the boundaries of the empire would
never be violated by the Lygians. The divine Nero is grateful to
thee, O general, because thou hast given her hospitality in thy
house for so many years; but, not wishing to burden thee longer,
and considering also that the maiden as a hostage should be under
the guardianship of Cirsar and the senate, he commands thee to
give her into my hands."
Aulus was too much a soldier and too much a veteran to permit
himself regret in view of an order, or vain words, or complaint. A
slight wrinkle of sudden anger and pain, however, appeared on his
forehead. Before that frown legions in Britain had trembled on a
time, and even at that moment fear was evident on the face of
Hasta. But in view of the order, Aulus Plautius felt defenceless. He
looked for some time at the tablets and the signet; then raising his
eyes to the old centurion, he said calmly, -- "Wait, Hasta, in the
atrium till the hostage is delivered to thee."
After these words he passed to the other end of the house, to the
hall called cecus, where Pomponia Graecina, Lygia, and little
Aulus
were waiting for him in fear and alarm.
"Death threatens no one, nor banishment to distant islands," said
he; "still Caesar's messenger is a herald of misfortune. It is a
question of thee, Lygia."
"Of Lygia?" exclaimed Pomponia, with astonishment.
"Yes," answered Aulus.
And turning to the maiden, he began: "Lygia, thou wert reared in
our house as our own child; I and Pomponia love thee as our
daughter. But know this, that thou art not our daughter. Thou art a
hostage, given by thy people to Rome, and guardianship over thee
belongs to Caesar. Now Caesar takes thee from our house."
The general spoke calmly, but with a certain strange, unusual
voice. Lygia listened to his words, blinking, as if not understanding
what the question was. Pomponia's cheeks became pallid. In the
doors leading from the corridor to the cecus, terrified faces of
slaves began to show themselves a second time.
"The will of Caesar must be accomplished," said Aulus.
"Aulus!" exclaimed Pomponia, embracing the maiden with her
arms, as if wishing to defend her, "it would be better for her to
die."
Lygia, nestling up to her breast, repeated, "Mother, mother!"
unable in her sobbing to find other words.
On Aulus's face anger and pain were reflected again. "If I were
alone in the world," said he, gloomily, "I would not surrender her
alive, and my relatives might give offerings this day to 'Jupiter
Liberator.' But I have not the right to kill thee and our child, who
may live to happier times. I will go to Caesar this day, and implore
him to change his command. Whether he will hear me, I know not.
Meanwhile, farewell, Lygia, and know that I and Pornponia ever
bless the day in which thou didst take thy seat at our hearth."
Thus speaking, he placed his hand on her head; but though he
strove to preserve his calmness, when Lygia turned to him eyes
filled with tears, and seizing his hand pressed it to her lips, his
voice was filled with deep fatherly sorrow.
"Farewell, our joy, and the light of our eyes," said he.
And he went to the atrium quickly, so as not to let himself be
conquered by emotion unworthy of a Roman and a general.
Meanwhile Pomponia, when she had conducted Lygia to the
cubiculum, began to comfort, console, and encourage her, uttering
words meanwhile which sounded strangely in that house, where
near them in an adjoining chamber the lararium remained yet, and
where the hearth was on which Aulus Plautius, faithful to ancient
usage, made offerings to the household divinities. Now the hour of
trial had come. On a time Virginius had pierced the bosom of his
own daughter to save her from the hands of Appius; still earlier
Lucretia had redeemed her shame with her life. The house of
Caesar is a den of infamy, of evil, of crime. But we, Lygia, know
why we have not the right to raise hands on ourselves! Yes! The
law under which we both live is another, a greater, a holier, but it
gives permission to defend oneself from evil and shame even
should it happen to pay for that defence with life and torment.
Whoso goes forth pure from the dwelling of corruption has the
greater merit thereby. The earth is that dwelling; but fortunately
life is one twinkle of the eye, and resurrection is only from the
grave; beyond that not Nero, but Mercy bears rule, and there
instead of pain is delight, there instead of tears is rejoicing.
Next she began to speak of herself. Yes! she was calm; but in her
breast there was no lack of painful wounds. For example, Aulus
was a cataract on her eye; the fountain of light had not flowed to
him yet. Neither was it permitted her to rear her son in Truth.
When she thought, therefore, that it might be thus to the end of her
life, and that for them a moment of separation might come which
would be a hundred times more grievous and terrible than that
temporary one over which they were both suffering then, she could
not so much as understand how she might be happy even in heaven
without them. And she had wept many nights through already, she
had passed many nights in prayer, imploring grace and mercy. But
she offered her suffering to God, and waited and trusted. And now,
when a new blow struck her, when the tyrant's command took from
her a dear one, -- the one whom Aulus had called the light of their
eyes, -- she trusted yet, believing that there was a power greater
than Nero's and a mercy mightier than his anger.
And she pressed the maiden's head to her bosom still more firmly.
Lygia dropped to her knees after a while, and, covering her eyes in
the folds of Pomponia's peplus, she remained thus a long time in
silence; but when she stood up again, some calmness was evident
on her face.
"I grieve for thee, mother, and for father and for my brother; but I
know that resistance is useless, and would destroy all of us. I
promise thee that in the house of Caesar I will never forget thy
words."
Once more she threw her arms around Pomponia's neck; then both
went out to the cecus, and she took farewell of little Aulus, of the
old Greek their teacher, of the dressing-maid who had been her
nurse, and of all the slaves. One of these, a tall and
broad-shouldered Lygian, called Ursus in the house, who with
other servants had in his time gone with Lygia's mother and her to
the camp of the Romans, fell now at her feet, and then bent down
to the knees of Pomponia, saying, -- "O domina! permit me to go
with my lady, to serve her and watch over her in the house of
Caesar."
"Thou art not our servant, but Lygia's," answered Pomponia; "but if
they admit thee through Caesar's doors, in what way wilt thou be
able to watch over her?"
"I know not, domina; I know only that iron breaks in my hands just
as wood does."
When Aulus, who came up at that moment, had heard what the
question was, not only did he not oppose the wishes of Ursus, but
he declared that he had not even the right to detain him. They were
sending away Lygia as a hostage whom Ciesar had claimed, and
they were obliged in the same way to send her retinue, which
passed with her to the control of Caesar. Here he whispered to
Pomponia that under the form of an escort she could add as many
slaves as she thought proper, for the centurion could not refuse to
receive them.
There was a certain comfort for Lygia in this. Pomponia also was
glad that she could surround her with servants of her own choice.
Therefore, besides Ursus, she appointed to her the old tire-woman,
two maidens from Cyprus well skilled in hair-dressing, and two
German maidens for the bath. Her choice fell exclusively on
adherents of the new faith; Ursus, too, had professed it for a
number of years. Pomponia could count on the faithfulness of
those servants, and at the same time consoled herself with the
thought that soon grains of truth would be in Caesar's house.
She wrote a few words also, committing care over Lygia to Nero's
freedwoman, Acte. Pomponia had not seen her, it is true, at
meetings of confessors of the new faith; but she had heard from
them that Acte had never refused them a service, and that she read
the letters of Paul of Tarsus eagerly. It was known to her also that
the young freedwoman lived in melancholy, that she was a person
different from all other women of Nero's house, and that in general
she was the good spirit of the palace.
Hasta engaged to deliver the letter himself to Acte. Considering it
natural that the daughter of a king should have a retinue of her
own servants, he did not raise the least difficulty in taking them to
the palace, but wondered rather that there should be so few. He
begged haste, however, fearing lest he might be suspected of want
of zeal in carrying out orders.
The moment of parting came. The eyes of Pomponia and Lygia
were filled with fresh tears; Aulus placed his hand on her head
again, and after a while the soldiers, followed by the cry of little
Aulus, who in defence of his sister threatened the centurion with
his small fists, conducted Lygia to Caesar's house.
The old general gave command to prepare his litter at once;
meanwhile, shutting himself up with Pomponia in the pinacotheca
adjoining the cecus, he said to her, -- "Listen to me, Pomponia. I
will go to Caesar, though I judge that my visit will be useless; and
though Seneca's word means nothing with Nero now, I will go also
to Seneca. To-day Sophonius, Tigellinus, Petronius, or Vatinius
has more influence. As to Caesar, perhaps he has never even heard
of the Lygian people; and if he has demanded the delivery of
Lygia, the hostage, he has done so because some one persuaded
him to it, -- it is easy to guess who could do that."
She raised her eyes to him quickly.
"Is it Petronius?"
"It is."
A moment of silence followed; then the general continued, -- "See
what it is to admit over the threshold any of those people without
conscience or honor. Cursed be the moment in which Vinicius
entered our house, for he brought Petronius. Woe to Lygia, since
those men are not seeking a hostage, but a concubine."
And his speech became more hissing than usual, because of
helpless rage and of sorrow for his adopted daughter. He struggled
with himself some time, and only his clenched fists showed how
severe was the struggle within him.
"I have revered the gods so far," said he; "but at this moment I
think that not they are over the world, but one mad, malicious
monster named Nero."
"Aulus," said Pomponia. "Nero is only a handful of rotten dust
before God."
But Aulus began to walk with long steps over the mosaic of the
pinacotheca. In his life there had been great deeds, but no great
misfortunes; hence he was unused to them. The old soldier had
grown more attached to Lygia than he himself had been aware of,
and now he could not be reconciled to the thought that he had lost
her. Besides, he felt humiliated. A hand was weighing on him
which he despised, and at the same time he felt that before its
power his power was as nothing.
But when at last he stifled in himself the anger which disturbed his
thoughts, he said,-- "I judge that Petronius has not taken her from
us for Caesar, since he would not offend Poppan. Therefore he
took
her either for himself or Vinicius. Today I will discover this."
And after a while the litter bore him in the direction of the
Palatine. Pornponia, when left alone, went to little Aulus, who did
not cease crying for his sister, or threatening Caesar. _