innocent! Arrest Arbaces the Egyptian--HE is the murderer of Apaecides!'
'Art thou mad, O Sallust!' said the praetor, rising from his seat. 'What
means this raving?'
'Remove the Athenian!--Quick! or his blood be on your head. Praetor,
delay, and you answer with your own life to the emperor! I bring with
me the eye-witness to the death of the priest Apaecides. Room
there!--stand back!--give way! People of Pompeii, fix every eye upon
Arbaces--there he sits! Room there for the priest Calenus!'
Pale, haggard, fresh from the jaws of famine and of death, his face
fallen, his eyes dull as a vulture's, his broad frame gaunt as a
skeleton--Calenus was supported into the very row in which Arbaces sat.
His releasers had given him sparingly of food; but the chief sustenance
that nerved his feeble limbs was revenge!
'The priest Calenus!--Calenus!' cried the mob. 'Is it he? No--it is a
dead man?'
'It is the priest Calenus,' said the praetor, gravely. 'What hast thou
to say?'
'Arbaces of Egypt is the murderer of Apaecides, the priest of Isis;
these eyes saw him deal the blow. It is from the dungeon into which he
plunged me--it is from the darkness and horror of a death by
famine--that the gods have raised me to proclaim his crime! Release the
Athenian--he is innocent!'
'It is for this, then, that the lion spared him. A miracle! a miracle!'
cried Pansa.
'A miracle; a miracle!' shouted the people; 'remove the
Athenian--Arbaces to the lion!'
And that shout echoed from hill to vale--from coast to sea--'Arbaces to
the lion!'
Officers, remove the accused Glaucus--remove, but guard him yet,' said
the praetor. 'The gods lavish their wonders upon this day.'
As the praetor gave the word of release, there was a cry of joy--a
female voice--a child's voice--and it was of joy! It rang through the
heart of the assembly with electric force--it, was touching, it was
holy, that child's voice! And the populace echoed it back with
sympathizing congratulation!
'Silence!' said the grave praetor--'who is there?'
'The blind girl--Nydia,' answered Sallust; 'it is her hand that has
raised Calenus from the grave, and delivered Glaucus from the lion.'
'Of this hereafter,' said the praetor. 'Calenus, priest of Isis, thou
accusest Arbaces of the murder of Apaecides?'
'I do.'
'Thou didst behold the deed?'
'Praetor--with these eyes...'
'Enough at present--the details must be reserved for more suiting time
and place. Arbaces of Egypt, thou hearest the charge against thee--thou
hast not yet spoken--what hast thou to say.
The gaze of the crowd had been long riveted on Arbaces: but not until
the confusion which he had betrayed at the first charge of Sallust and
the entrance of Calenus had subsided. At the shout, 'Arbaces to the
lion!' he had indeed trembled, and the dark bronze of his cheek had
taken a paler hue. But he had soon recovered his haughtiness and
self-control. Proudly he returned the angry glare of the countless eyes
around him; and replying now to the question of the praetor, he said, in
that accent so peculiarly tranquil and commanding, which characterized
his tones:
'Praetor, this charge is so mad that it scarcely deserves reply. My
first accuser is the noble Sallust--the most intimate friend of Glaucus!
my second is a priest; I revere his garb and calling--but, people of
Pompeii! ye know somewhat of the character of Calenus--he is griping and
gold-thirsty to a proverb; the witness of such men is to be bought!
Praetor, I am innocent!'
'Sallust,' said the magistrate, 'where found you Calenus?'
'In the dungeons of Arbaces.'
'Egyptian,' said the praetor, frowning, 'thou didst, then, dare to
imprison a priest of the gods--and wherefore?'
'Hear me,' answered Arbaces, rising calmly, but with agitation visible
in his face. 'This man came to threaten that he would make against me
the charge he has now made, unless I would purchase his silence with
half my fortune: I remonstrated--in vain. Peace there--let not the
priest interrupt me! Noble praetor--and ye, O people! I was a stranger
in the land--I knew myself innocent of crime--but the witness of a
priest against me might yet destroy me. In my perplexity I decoyed him
to the cell whence he has been released, on pretence that it was the
coffer-house of my gold. I resolved to detain him there until the fate
of the true criminal was sealed, and his threats could avail no longer;
but I meant no worse. I may have erred--but who amongst ye will not
acknowledge the equity of self-preservation? Were I guilty, why was the
witness of this priest silent at the trial?--then I had not detained or
concealed him. Why did he not proclaim my guilt when I proclaimed that
of Glaucus? Praetor, this needs an answer. For the rest, I throw myself
on your laws. I demand their protection. Remove hence the accused and
the accuser. I will willingly meet, and cheerfully abide by, the
decision of the legitimate tribunal. This is no place for further
parley.'
'He says right,' said the praetor. 'Ho! guards--remove Arbaces--guard
Calenus! Sallust, we hold you responsible for your accusation. Let the
sports be resumed.'
'What!' cried Calenus, turning round to the people, 'shall Isis be thus
contemned? Shall the blood of Apaecides yet cry for vengeance? Shall
justice be delayed now, that it may be frustrated hereafter? Shall the
lion be cheated of his lawful prey? A god! a god!--I feel the god rush
to my lips! To the lion--to the lion with Arbaces!'
His exhausted frame could support no longer the ferocious malice of the
priest; he sank on the ground in strong convulsions--the foam gathered
to his mouth--he was as a man, indeed, whom a supernatural power had
entered! The people saw and shuddered.
'It is a god that inspires the holy man! To the lion with the
Egyptian!'
With that cry up sprang--on moved--thousands upon thousands! They rushed
from the heights--they poured down in the direction of the Egyptian. In
vain did the aedile command--in vain did the praetor lift his voice and
proclaim the law. The people had been already rendered savage by the
exhibition of blood--they thirsted for more--their superstition was
aided by their ferocity. Aroused--inflamed by the spectacle of their
victims, they forgot the authority of their rulers. It was one of those
dread popular convulsions common to crowds wholly ignorant, half free
and half servile; and which the peculiar constitution of the Roman
provinces so frequently exhibited. The power of the praetor was as a
reed beneath the whirlwind; still, at his word the guards had drawn
themselves along the lower benches, on which the upper classes sat
separate from the vulgar. They made but a feeble barrier--the waves of
the human sea halted for a moment, to enable Arbaces to count the exact
moment of his doom! In despair, and in a terror which beat down even
pride, he glanced his eyes over the rolling and rushing crowd--when,
right above them, through the wide chasm which had been left in the
velaria, he beheld a strange and awful apparition--he beheld--and his
craft restored his courage!
He stretched his hand on high; over his lofty brow and royal features
there came an expression of unutterable solemnity and command.
'Behold!' he shouted with a voice of thunder, which stilled the roar of
the crowd; 'behold how the gods protect the guiltless! The fires of the
avenging Orcus burst forth against the false witness of my accusers!'
The eyes of the crowd followed the gesture of the Egyptian, and beheld,
with ineffable dismay, a vast vapor shooting from the summit of
Vesuvius, in the form of a gigantic pine-tree; the trunk, blackness--the
branches, fire!--a fire that shifted and wavered in its hues with every
moment, now fiercely luminous, now of a dull and dying red, that again
blazed terrifically forth with intolerable glare!
There was a dead, heart-sunken silence--through which there suddenly
broke the roar of the lion, which was echoed back from within the
building by the sharper and fiercer yells of its fellow-beast. Dread
seers were they of the Burden of the Atmosphere, and wild prophets of
the wrath to come!
Then there arose on high the universal shrieks of women; the men stared
at each other, but were dumb. At that moment they felt the earth shake
beneath their feet; the walls of the theatre trembled: and, beyond in
the distance, they heard the crash of falling roofs; an instant more and
the mountain-cloud seemed to roll towards them, dark and rapid, like a
torrent; at the same time, it cast forth from its bosom a shower of
ashes mixed with vast fragments of burning stone! Over the crushing
vines--over the desolate streets--over the amphitheatre itself--far and
wide--with many a mighty splash in the agitated sea--fell that awful
shower!
No longer thought the crowd of justice or of Arbaces; safety for
themselves was their sole thought. Each turned to fly--each dashing,
pressing, crushing, against the other. Trampling recklessly over the
fallen--amidst groans, and oaths, and prayers, and sudden shrieks, the
enormous crowd vomited itself forth through the numerous passages.
Whither should they fly? Some, anticipating a second earthquake,
hastened to their homes to load themselves with their more costly goods,
and escape while it was yet time; others, dreading the showers of ashes
that now fell fast, torrent upon torrent, over the streets, rushed under
the roofs of the nearest houses, or temples, or sheds--shelter of any
kind--for protection from the terrors of the open air. But darker, and
larger, and mightier, spread the cloud above them. It was a sudden and
more ghastly Night rushing upon the realm of Noon!
Chapter V
THE CELL OF THE PRISONER AND THE DEN OF THE DEAD. GRIEF UNCONSCIOUS OF
HORROR.
STUNNED by his reprieve, doubting that he was awake, Glaucus had been
led by the officers of the arena into a small cell within the walls of
the theatre. They threw a loose robe over his form, and crowded round in
congratulation and wonder. There was an impatient and fretful cry
without the cell; the throng gave way, and the blind girl, led by some
gentler hand, flung herself at the feet of Glaucus.
'It is I who have saved thee,' she sobbed; now let me die!'
'Nydia, my child!--my preserver!'
'Oh, let me feel thy touch--thy breath! Yes, yes, thou livest! We are
not too late! That dread door, methought it would never yield! and
Calenus--oh! his voice was as the dying wind among tombs--we had to
wait--gods! it seemed hours ere food and wine restored to him something
of strength. But thou livest! thou livest yet! And I--I have saved
thee!'
This affecting scene was soon interrupted by the event just described.
'The mountain! the earthquake!' resounded from side to side. The
officers fled with the rest; they left Glaucus and Nydia to save
themselves as they might.
As the sense of the dangers around them flashed on the Athenian, his
generous heart recurred to Olinthus. He, too, was reprieved from the
tiger by the hand of the gods; should he be left to a no less fatal
death in the neighboring cell? Taking Nydia by the hand, Glaucus
hurried across the passages; he gained the den of the Christian! He
found Olinthus kneeling and in prayer.
'Arise! arise! my friend,' he cried. 'Save thyself, and fly! See!
Nature is thy dread deliverer!' He led forth the bewildered Christian,
and pointed to a cloud which advanced darker and darker, disgorging
forth showers of ashes and pumice stones--and bade him hearken to the
cries and trampling rush of the scattered crowd.
'This is the hand of God--God be praised!' said Olinthus, devoutly.
'Fly! seek thy brethren!--Concert with them thy escape. Farewell!'
Olinthus did not answer, neither did he mark the retreating form of his
friend. High thoughts and solemn absorbed his soul: and in the
enthusiasm of his kindling heart, he exulted in the mercy of God rather
than trembled at the evidence of His power.
At length he roused himself, and hurried on, he scarce knew whither.
The open doors of a dark, desolate cell suddenly appeared on his path;
through the gloom within there flared and flickered a single lamp; and
by its light he saw three grim and naked forms stretched on the earth in
death. His feet were suddenly arrested; for, amidst the terror of that
drear recess--the spoliarium of the arena--he heard a low voice calling
on the name of Christ!
He could not resist lingering at that appeal: he entered the den, and
his feet were dabbled in the slow streams of blood that gushed from the
corpses over the sand.
'Who,' said the Nazarene, 'calls upon the son of God?'
No answer came forth; and turning round, Olinthus beheld, by the light
of the lamp, an old grey-headed man sitting on the floor, and supporting
in his lap the head of one of the dead. The features of the dead man
were firmly and rigidly locked in the last sleep; but over the lip there
played a fierce smile--not the Christian's smile of hope, but the dark
sneer of hatred and defiance. Yet on the face still lingered the
beautiful roundness of early youth. The hair curled thick and glossy
over the unwrinkled brow; and the down of manhood but slightly shaded
the marble of the hueless cheek. And over this face bent one of such
unutterable sadness--of such yearning tenderness--of such fond and such
deep despair! The tears of the old man fell fast and hot, but he did
not feel them; and when his lips moved, and he mechanically uttered the
prayer of his benign and hopeful faith, neither his heart nor his sense
responded to the words: it was but the involuntary emotion that broke
