About an hour short of midnight he fell asleep. Epicharis sat on in the same posture, watching him as he slept with an intense earnestness. A little after dawn he woke.
“Give me,” he said, “a cordial. I have something to say, and need a little strength.”
The physician had left a cordial, some old Falernian wine with bettany root dissolved in it, in case the occasion for it should arise.
Epicharis raised the sick man’s head from the pillow, and put the cup to his lips. He took a few sips and then spoke: “Tell Subrius the Pr?torian that he is embarked on an ill business. It will not prosper. And you, too, beware of it. Put away these thoughts from you. It has been borne in upon me that these things will be your ruin. I have had a dreadful dream since I slept. I saw Nero sitting on his throne, and the ground round him was covered with dead bodies, as thickly as if there had been a battle. But I could not see their faces.”
[207] “But you told me yourself,” said Epicharis, “of this undertaking, and seemed glad that it was set on foot.”
“Ah! but things are changed since then with me. I did not know what I know now.”
The fact was, that it was only a few days before his arrest that Fannius had discussed the subject with one of the Christian teachers. Probably there have always been two ways of thinking about the lawfulness of resistance to power, unrighteous in itself or unrighteously exercised. But among the early Christians there was certainly a greater weight of authority on the side of submission. “The powers that be are ordained of God” was the teaching of the great Apostle who had formed the views of the Church in Rome; and this view had been strongly enforced on Fannius by the teacher whom he consulted, one of those who had learnt all that they knew at the feet of St. Paul.
The mind of the soldier had been much agitated by conflicting emotions. The old loyalty to the Emperor, which was part of a soldier’s training, was now reinforced by a religious sanction. On the other hand, he was deeply committed to comrades with whose desire to free Rome from the shame of its present degradation he strongly sympathized. And then there was Epicharis. She lived, he knew, to avenge a cruel wrong to one whom she loved. This aim was the thing nearest to her heart, nearer, he was [208] aware, than her love for him. Could he endure to disappoint her?
Then came the arrest and imprisonment of the Christians. The tyrant who had given the order now seemed doubly hateful. Still it did not change the soldier’s newly acquired views of duty. In one way it emphasized them. The more difficult submission appeared, the greater the obligation to it. “Not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward,” were words that rung in his ears. And in the near presence of his death this call of duty, as he conceived it, became louder and more imperative. To see Epicharis, and to implore her to abandon her scheme, became a pressing necessity.
“I implore you,” he said, “as you love me, to give up your schemes. Leave the wrong-doer to be punished by God. His vengeance is stronger and surer than ours.”
It was a critical moment. The girl indeed did not understand the reason which moved Fannius to speak in this way. She fancied that he was more concerned for her safety than for anything else. Still his entreaty weighed greatly with her. He was a dying man, and the last requests of the dying are hard to refuse; and she felt, too, that she owed him some redress. The words “I promise” were almost on her lips. Had she spoken them the fate of many persons with whom our story is concerned might have been different. But at the very moment she [209] was about to speak there came a sudden interruption.
An official sent to inspect the prison had discovered the change which the keeper of the Tullianum had taken upon himself to make in the custody of Fannius. As he had been specially instructed to allow no relaxation in the severity of imprisonment, he at once directed that the man should be carried back to the dungeon from which he had been transferred. The jailer in vain represented that the prisoner was dying. “That makes no difference,” was the answer. “I must obey my orders,” and he pushed his way, followed by two attendants, into the chamber of death.
“There he is,” he cried to the men; “carry him back, dead or alive.”
At the sound of his voice, Epicharis rose from where she had been kneeling by the bedside, and confronted the two men.
“You shall not touch him,” she cried.
The attendants fell back astonished, so majestic was she in the white heat of her wrath.
“Thrust her aside,” cried their more hardened master, from where he stood in the background.
The men hesitated; she might have a weapon in her dress, and looked quite capable of dealing a mortal blow.
The inspector, infuriated at this delay, now himself made a forward movement.
[210] At this moment a voice from behind changed the woman’s mood.
“Epicharis!” said the dying man feebly.
She turned to him with a gesture of tenderness.
“Hinder them not,” he whispered. “I can die as easily there as here. Kiss me, dearest. The Lord Christ bless and keep you, and bring us to meet again.”
She stooped to kiss him.
Even the brutal official could not interrupt this parting. When it was over, his victim was out of the reach of his cruelty. Fannius was dead.
________________________________________
SURRENDER
[211] POPPAEA and her advisers were not inclined, it may easily be supposed, to rest satisfied with their double defeat in the matter of Pomponia. That she had escaped from the illegal violence of the first attack was vexatious enough, but it was a thing that had to be endured. It was a different thing when she was found to have eluded a legal order for her arrest. The question was, how was the hiding-place of the fugitives to be discovered? Nothing was learnt by the strictest inquiries at Subrius’ country house. The inmates, some of whom Tigellinus did not scruple to torture, evidently knew nothing about the matter. The two ladies had disappeared a few hours before the arrival of the arresting party; beyond that, nothing could be learnt. Supposed confessions, which were wrung out of one of the slaves, were found not to lead to any discoveries. It was soon seen that they were fictions, produced to obtain an immediate release from pain, as confessions obtained by pressure of torture frequently were. A more hopeful plan was to search through the multitude of arrested persons for some one who might really be willing and able to give such information as would [212] lead to a discovery. Slaves who had been in Pomponia’s household in Rome were found, but they could easily prove that they knew nothing more of her movements beyond her departure from the city. It was when she left Subrius’ house that she seemed to have vanished into space. Popp?a, however, was not to be baffled. One person, she learnt, had accompanied Pomponia on her journey; this was the old steward. It was probable that he was in possession of the secret of her hiding-place. If he was arrested, it might be extorted from him. The detectives were immediately put upon his track, and it was not long before their search was successful. Sad to say, it was a fellow-believer, or, at least, one who professed himself to be such, that betrayed him. Even in days when nothing, it would seem, that could attract, was to be gained by the profession of Christian belief, there were some who made that profession without adequate conviction. The mere reckless desire of change, or a passing emotion that was mistaken for genuine faith, led them into a false position. Or they were of that class, who, as the Master had foreseen, would receive the word gladly, and in times of persecution fall away; and, it must be confessed, the trial was terrible. Under such pressure, strong natures might well have failed; much more this poor young slave, feeble in frame, and of a selfish, pleasure-loving temper, who gave the fatal information about Phlegon. The bribe of freedom, safety, and a [213] sum of fifty thousand sesterces, that seemed to assure him of a future livelihood, were too much for his constancy and good faith. The information that he gave enabled the officers, before three days were over, to arrest the old man.
Even then Popp?a and her friends did not seem much nearer to the attainment of their object. Questioned as to whether he was acquainted with Pomponia’s hiding-place, he did not affect to deny it. His sturdy principle forbade him to speak anything but the truth, however much it might be to his own injury. But at this acknowledgment he stopped. He could not, indeed, bring his lips to say the thing that was not; but beyond this he did not feel his obligation to go. Any information that might help the persecutors to secure their prey, he resolutely refused to give. Bribes were tried at first; they were contemptuously rejected. Threats were freely used, but seemed to make no impression. Torture was then employed. The old Roman rule that it was never to be applied to free persons had long since fallen into neglect. For some years past persons of much higher rank than the old steward had been exposed to it. When even Senators and knights had been stretched on the rack, and tortured with the heated plates of metal, it was not likely that an insignificant freedman would escape. (Footnote: It was an exception when torture was applied to any free person of rank. Probably it was an abuse of power, or used in very exceptional cases, as in suspected conspiracy against the Emperor’s life; but insignificant persons were often subjected to it, and a freedman was held to be almost in the same position as a slave.)