Virgilia drew a long breath and then another. It had been very hot and very fatiguing in her mother's room. She had refused to have any sun or light except that coming out of the large living-room, from which four sleeping chambers opened.

The girl stretched out her arms, in graceful languor, then, throwing herself on the couch, she closed her eyes, but she was not sleeping. A panorama of thoughts and visions pa.s.sed rapidly through her mind. She saw herself as she had been, a pagan, a worshipper of the G.o.ds, with no thought above the arranging of her hair or the flowers she would wear at the banquets. She recalled the visits to Hermione and the quiet meetings of the Christians in their hiding-places in the catacombs, surrounded by the graves of many martyrs to the Christian faith.

One scene she would never forget. It was one afternoon when she and Hermione accompanied by Marcus leaving Alyrus sleeping in the antechamber, had slipped out by a side entrance, joining the other Christians in the shadowy pa.s.sageways of the underground cemeteries.

An old man, with snowy beard and piercing eyes was reading aloud a letter, a letter from the Apostle Paul to those who were at Rome. The light from torches stuck into the rough walls of the cubiculum shone on an hundred upturned faces of brave followers of Christ who knew not on what day, or in what hour they would be arrested and thrown into prison.

They listened to the words of their fellow Christian, Paul, who had seen the Lord on the way to Damascus.

"To all that be in Rome," he wrote, "beloved of G.o.d, called to be saints: Grace to you, and peace, from G.o.d our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ * * * Your faith is spoken of throughout the whole world * * * I long to see you * * * I am debtor both to the Greeks and to the Barbarians * * * So, as much as in me is, I am ready to preach the Gospel to you that are at Rome also."

Then the elder told them that a report had been brought by brethren arrived from Antioch, that the Apostle, who had for some time been confined at Caesarea, had finally appealed to Caesar, and would be brought to Rome to be tried. He might come at any time, and perhaps they would be privileged to see him face to face.

Marcus and Hermione had said also on the way back to the villa, that their mother thought that some day the Apostle would come to Rome, it might be soon, and would bring them news of the Lord Christ, for he had seen him with his own eyes.

The darkness settled down over Rome and still Virgilia dreamed on, but the dreams were not prophetic; in the visions which she had there were no forebodings of that which was to come.

IV.

THE INNER SHRINE OF JUPITER.

Alyrus crept out of the rear door of the house about sundown, while Virgilia, her head pillowed on a cushion of soft down, was dreaming of things past. He told Alexis to guard the entrance and if the master inquired for him to tell him that a pair of sandals needed repairing and he was carrying them to the shoemaker. In fact, he had the sandals, of yellow Persian leather, wrapped up in an old handkerchief, and showed them to the Greek.

While Alexis seated himself on the porter's marble bench just inside the front door, left open that the evening breeze blowing fresh and cool from the sea might pa.s.s through the heated rooms, Alyrus went into the narrow alley at the rear. Just outside, a man crouched against the brick wall. It was Lucius, the water-carrier, who had sung the Christian hymn so boldly on the streets where pagan G.o.ds were worshipped. His goat-skin water-bag was empty and lay, wrinkled and collapsed, beside him.

Lucius, himself, was a strange sight in the midst of the luxurious people of Rome. A peasant he was, dwelling in a cave far out on the Roman Campagna, remote from the splendid villas and gardens lining the wide ways leading out of the city to North and South and West. This cave was in a ma.s.s of tufa rock rising abruptly from the flat, green fields, and not far from the aqueduct, three tiers of brick arches, one above the other, joined by ma.s.sive masonry, through which fresh water was brought in big leaden pipes to the city.

Hundreds of long-horned cattle, white and clean and strong, were grazing in the fields. It was such as these that Cincinnatus guided, ploughing the fields, when the messenger rode swiftly from Rome to call him to come and save her by becoming Dictator.

Lucius was a tiller of the fields, but, also, a water-carrier. He was resting now, after his labors in the scorching sunshine, half-asleep.

The Moor roused him into wide wakefulness, by giving him a st.u.r.dy kick.

"What art thou doing here, lazybones? Get thou to thy kennel, wherever it may be, dog of a Christian, and do not dare to show thy face here again."

"Dog of a Christian!" murmured Lucius, scrambling to his feet. "How did you know?"

Alyrus caught the words.

"How did I know? When a creature such as thou singest thy wicked songs in broad daylight, he must expect to be heard. A little more and thou, too, wilt go to feed the lions and offer entertainment to the thousands who are weary of other amus.e.m.e.nts and seek something new.

Turn pale, scarecrow, and tremble. Thy day will come, the day when those and others--shall suffer. Ha! ha! it strikes home, doesn't it?

Thou fearest, eh? So much the better."

Lucius stood before him, a pitiable figure. His body, brown as an Indian's, was bare almost to the waist. He wore only one garment, a sort of a shirt, made from the skin of one of his own sheep. His legs and feet were as brown as the rest of his body, and as tough as those of an animal.

His hair was black and long, a lock hung over his forehead and hid his black eyes. A long beard fell from cheeks and chin on to his hairy breast. There was nothing attractive about his appearance, it was thoroughly animal.

"I am not afraid," he replied, with such dignity that Alyrus stared at him. "When my time comes, I can die, trusting to a G.o.d whom thou knowest not, Alyrus, the Moor, doorkeeper in the house of Aurelius Luca.n.u.s."

"Thou knowest me, then?"

"I know thee well." His manner became cringing and servile. "I did but wait here a moment to rest, and fell asleep. I will go on my way."

Alyrus nodded and walked on, going first to the shoemaker's, a tiny shop where a man worked all day and slept at night. Having accomplished this business, and saved himself from having left a lying message for the lawyer, the porter went on his way to the Forum, where all was still now, for the business of the day was over. A few men were pa.s.sing, but they paid no attention to the Moor.

It was quite dark, heavy clouds from the west were encircling rapidly toward Rome and the wind had increased to a gale. There were sharp flashes of copper-blue lightning and a roar of thunder like booming cannon, echoing against the Alban and Salbine Hills encircling the city.

So dark was it that Alyrus did not observe that he was followed; did not see a strange figure with a sheep-skin flung over his back not far behind him, slipping from one doorway to another, hiding behind pillars, keeping the Moor ever in view.

Lucius the shepherd knew only one thing, intelligently, and that was the knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ. Even the most ignorant can learn this. The knowledge had been obtained one day, when, seeing a company of men and women crossing the Campagna, he had, out of curiosity, followed them to their gathering-place, where he had learned the truth about Jesus. Outside of this Lucius was absolutely unlearned, and almost as stupid as his own sheep. He had not wit enough to know that when he sang a Christian hymn where any and all could hear it his life was in the greatest danger. He was stupid, downright stupid, but he had a keen eye, knew whom to trust and was possessed of an insatiable curiosity.

Because, by instinct, he knew that Alyrus was up to some mischief, he followed him to see where he went. There was another reason. In the house of Aurelius Luca.n.u.s dwelt a small scullery maid, who a.s.sisted the slaves in the kitchen, doing all the dirty work and being struck and sworn at for any mistake. She earned a few cents a day. Lucius was waiting outside in the alley-way, as was his daily custom after finishing his work, to exchange a word with his daughter, whom he dearly loved.

I have said that in the lawyer's household were three Christians, one was Alexis, the Greek, and another was Lidia, the scullery-maid, who had been baptized by the white-haired elder in the Catacomb, beside her father.

Through her Lucius had learned that Martius and Virgilia were, also, Christians and, with his usual genius for following people, he had gone behind them to the Christian meeting place. He knew how wicked Alyrus was, how ill the Lady Claudia had been and for what reason.

Lidia had poured out the whole story to him.

Lucius crouched down near the temple door at the side of the huge white building with its many columns, after he had heard the knock Alyrus gave at the small portal, and had heard the door clang behind the porter. No good could come from that temple and its priests. Even though they bowed before the statue of the G.o.d and burned incense, the Romans did not trust the priests. They regarded them as intriguers, trying to get their hands on everything, ready to worm out secrets for their own profit and obtain private and political power whenever possible.

The great black cloud enveloped Rome. It belched out lightning and thunder, the flashes revealing the groups of stately buildings in the Forum and Caesar's palace on the Palatine Hill. The rain poured in torrents and it hailed, the ground was white with stones, some as large as pigeon eggs.

Still, Lucius waited, calmly. He was accustomed to all sorts of weather and his finery could not be spoiled. He drew his bare legs up under him, threw the skin water bag over his head and shoulders and waited.

Neither did Alyrus trust the priests. After all, these were not his G.o.ds, nor his priests. He worshipped Baal, a greater G.o.d than Jupiter.

As a matter of personal safety, however, he bowed the knee to those strange and worthless G.o.ds of Rome.

He kept his eyes well open, having been admitted to the temple by a young priest, who, carrying a taper, led him through several winding pa.s.sages. A man could get into this gruesome building and never find his way out, thought Alyrus, and though a brave chieftain in his own country, he shivered here in the black corridors, echoing with every footfall.

The priest conducted him to a large square room, with very high ceiling, lighted only by a single silver lamp having five branches, each of which contained a taper. Evidently this was an internal room, having no windows. Alyrus judged that it was lighted by day from an opening in the roof, covered with transparent material which withstood water. The rain began to beat upon it, and later, hailstones clattered by the thousands.

Around the table sat six priests, ghostly in their white robes. Their faces were stern and gloomy. The Moor began to feel a misgiving about his errand here. Perhaps after all, it would have been wiser to stay at home.

"Hast thou the token I gave thee?" asked Lycidon, the priest, who sat at the head of the table.

Alyrus saw that he was higher in position than the others. Around his forehead was bound a golden circlet, bearing a lizard covered with jewels. Its eyes were two emeralds and its body blazed with diamonds and rubies.

"I have."

The porter held up the bronze lizard, similar in form to that on the priest's forehead.

"It is well. Come forward to the light, and relate to me and these my brethren, all that thou knowest of thy master."

The spirit of recklessness which makes men daring possessed Alyrus at this moment. He felt approaching the glad hour of his revenge on those whom he despised. But he had not lost all caution.