In the bosom of the woods which stretched for many miles from the immediate environs of Sicca, and placed on a gravel slope reaching down to a brook, which ran in a bottom close by, was a small, rude hut, of a kind peculiar to Africa, and commonly ascribed to the wandering tribes, who neither cared, nor had leisure for a more stable habitation. Some might have called it a tent, from the goat’s-hair cloth with which it was covered; but it looked, as to shape, like nothing else than an inverted boat, or the roof of a house set upon the ground. Inside it was seen to be constructed of the branches of trees, twisted together or wattled, the interstices, or rather the whole surface, being covered with clay. Being thus stoutly built, lined, and covered, it was proof against the tremendous rains, to which the climate, for which it was made, was subject. Along the centre ridge or backbone, which varied in height from six to ten feet from the ground, it was supported by three posts or pillars; at one end it rose conically to an open aperture, which served for chimney, for sky-light, and for ventilator. Hooks were suspended from the roof for [pg 257]baskets, articles of clothing, weapons, and implements of various kinds; and a second cone, excavated in the ground with the vertex downward, served as a storehouse for grain. The door was so low, that an ordinary person must bend double to pass through it.
However, it was in the winter months only, when the rains were profuse, that the owner of this respectable mansion condescended to creep into it. In summer she had a drawing-room, as it may be called, of nature’s own creation, in which she lived, and in one quarter of which she had her lair. Close above the hut was a high plot of level turf, surrounded by old oaks, and fringed beneath with thick underwood. In the centre of this green rose a yew-tree of primeval character. Indeed, the whole forest spoke of the very beginnings of the world, as if it had been the immediate creation of that Voice which bade the earth clothe itself with green life. But the place no longer spoke exclusively of its Maker. Upon the trees hung the emblems and objects of idolatry, and the turf was traced with magical characters. Littered about were human bones, horns of wild animals, wax figures, spermaceti taken from vaults, large nails, to which portions of flesh adhered, as if they had had to do with malefactors, metal plates engraved with strange characters, bottled blood, hair of young persons, and old rags. The reader must not suppose any incantation is about to follow, or that the place we are describing will have a prominent place in what remains of our tale; but even if it be the scene of only [pg 258]one conversation, and one event, there is no harm in describing it, as it appeared on that occasion.
The old crone, who was seated in this bower of delight, had an expression of countenance in keeping, not with the place, but with the furniture with which it was adorned; that furniture told her trade. Whether the root of superstition might be traced deeper still, and the woman and her traps were really and directly connected with the powers beneath the earth, it is impossible to determine; it is certain she had the will, it is certain that that will was from their inspiration; nay, it is certain that she thought she really possessed the communications which she desired; it is certain, too, she so far deceived herself as to fancy that what she learned by mere natural means came to her from a diabolical source. She kept up an active correspondence with Sicca. She was consulted by numbers; she was up with the public news, the social gossip, and the private and secret transactions of the hour; and had, before now, even interfered in matters of state, and had been courted by rival political parties. But in the high cares and occupations of this interesting person, we are not here concerned; but with a conversation which took place between her and Juba, about the same hour of the evening as that of Cæcilius’s escape, but on the day after it, while the sun was gleaming almost horizontally through the tall trunks of the trees of the forest.
“Well, my precious boy,” said the old woman, [pg 259]“the choicest gifts of great Cham be your portion! You had excellent sport yesterday, I’ll warrant. The rats squeaked, eh? and you beat the life out of them. That scoundrel sacristan, I suppose, has taken up his quarters below.”
“You may say it,” answered Juba. “The reptile! he turned right about, and would have made himself an honest fellow, when it couldn’t be helped.”
“Good, good!” returned Gurta, as if she had got something very pleasant in her mouth; “ah! that is good! but he did not escape on that score, I do trust.”
“They pulled him to pieces all the more cheerfully,” said Juba.
“Pulled him to pieces, limb by limb, joint by joint, eh?” answered Gurta. “Did they skin him?—did they do anything to his eyes, or his tongue? Anyhow, it was too quickly, Juba. Slowly, leisurely, gradually. Yes, it’s like a glutton to be quick about it. Taste him, handle him, play with him,—that’s luxury! but to bolt him,—faugh!”
“Cæso’s slave made a good end,” said Juba: “he stood up for his views, and died like a man.”
“The gods smite him! but he has gone up—up:” and she laughed. “Up to what they call bliss and glory;—such glory! but he’s out of our domain, you know. But he did not die easy?”
“The boys worried him a good deal,” answered Juba: “but it’s not quite in my line, mother, all this. I think you drink a pint of blood morning and even[pg 260]ing, and thrive on it, old woman. It makes you merry; but it’s too much for my stomach.”
“Ha, ha, my boy!” cried Gurta; “you’ll improve in time, though you make wry faces, now that you’re young. Well, and have you brought me any news from the capitol? Is any one getting a rise in the world, or a downfall? How blows the wind? Are there changes in the camp? This Decius, I suspect, will not last long.”
“They all seem desperately frightened,” said Juba, “lest they should not smite your friends hard enough, Gurta. Root and branch is the word. They’ll have to make a few Christians for the occasion, in order to kill them: and I almost think they’re about it,” he added, thoughtfully. “They have to show that they are not surpassed by the rabble. ’Tis a pity Christians are so few, isn’t it, mother?”
“Yes, yes,” she said, “but we must crush them, grind them, many or few: and we shall, we shall! Callista’s to come.”
“I don’t see they are worse than other people,” said Juba; “not at all, except that they are commonly sneaks. If Callista turns, why should not I turn too, mother, to keep her company, and keep your hand in?”
“No, no, my boy,” returned the witch, “you must serve my master. You are having your fling just now, but you will buckle to in good time. You must one day take some work with my merry men. Come here, child,” said the fond mother, “and let me kiss you.”
[pg 261]“Keep your kisses for your monkeys and goats and cats,” answered Juba; “they’re not to my taste, old dame. Master! my master! I won’t have a master! I’ll be nobody’s servant. I’ll never stand to be hired, nor cringe to a bully, nor quake before a rod. Please yourself, Gurta; I am a free man. You’re my mother by courtesy only.”
Gurta looked at him savagely. “Why, you’re not going to be pious and virtuous, Juba? A choice saint you’ll make! You shall be drawn for a picture.”
“Why shouldn’t I, if I choose?” said Juba. “If I must take service, willy nilly, I’d any day prefer the other’s to that of your friend. I’ve not left the master to take the man.”
“Blaspheme not the great gods,” she answered, “or they’ll do you a mischief yet.”
“I say again,” insisted Juba, “if I must lick the earth, it shall not be where your friend has trod. It shall be in my brother’s fashion, rather than in yours, Gurta.”
“Agellius!” she shrieked out with such disgust, that it is wonderful she uttered the name at all. “Ah! you have not told me about him, boy. Well, is he safe in the pit, or in the stomach of an hyena?”
“He’s alive,” said Juba; “but he has not got it in him to be a Christian. Yes, he’s safe with his uncle.”
“Ah! Jucundus must ruin him, debauch him, and then we must make away with him. We must not be in a hurry,” said Gurta, “it must be body and soul.”
[pg 262]“No one shall touch him, craven as he is,” answered Juba. “I despise him, but let him alone.”
“Don’t come across me,” said Gurta, sullenly; “I’ll have my way. Why, you know I could smite you to the dust, as well as him, if I chose.”
“But you have not asked me about Callista,” answered Juba. “It is really a capital joke, but she has got into prison for certain, for being a Christian. Fancy it! they caught her in the streets, and put her in the guard-house, and have had her up for examination. You see they want a Christian for the nonce: it would not do to have none such in prison; so they will flourish with her till Decius bolts from the scene.”
“The Furies have her!” cried Gurta: “she is a Christian, my boy: I told you so, long ago!”
“Callista a Christian!” answered Juba, “ha! ha! She and Agellius are going to make a match of it, of some sort or other. They’re thinking of other things than paradise.”
“She and the old priest, more likely, more likely,” said Gurta. “He’s in prison with her—in the pit, as I trust.”
“Your master has cheated you for once, old woman,” said Juba.
Gurta looked at him fiercely, and seemed waiting for his explanation. He began singing,—
Gurta was almost suffocated with passion. “Cyprianus has not escaped, boy?” she asked at length.
“I got him off,” said Juba, undauntedly.
A shade, as of Erebus, passed over the witch’s face; but she remained quite silent.
“Mother, I am my own master,” he continued, “I must break your assumption of superiority. I’m not a boy, though you call me so. I’ll have my own way. Yes, I saved Cyprianus. You’re a bloodthirsty old hag! Yes, I’ve seen your secret doings. Did not I catch you the other day, practising on that little child? You had nailed him up by hands and feet against the tree, and were cutting him to pieces at your leisure, as he quivered and shrieked the while. You were examining or using his liver for some of your black purposes. It’s not in my line; but you gloated over it; and when he wailed, you wailed in mimicry. You were panting with pleasure.”
Gurta was still silent, and had an expression on her face, awful from the intensity of its malignity. She had uttered a low piercing whistle.
“Yes!” continued Juba, “you revelled in it. You chattered to the poor babe when it screamed, as a nurse to an infant. You called it pretty names, and squeaked out your satisfaction each time you stuck it. You old hag! I’m not of your breed, though they call us of kin. I don’t fear you,” he said, [pg 264]observing the expression of her countenance, “I don’t fear the immortal devil!” And he continued his song—
While he was talking and singing, her call had been answered from the hut. An animal of some wonderful species had crept out of it, and proceeded to creep and crawl, moeing and twisting as it went, along the trees and shrubs which rounded the grass plot. When it came up to the old woman, it crouched at her feet, and then rose up upon its hind legs and begged. She took hold of the uncouth beast and began to fondle it in her arms, muttering something in its ear. At length, when Juba stopped for a moment in his song, she suddenly flung it right at him, with great force, saying, “Take that!” She then gave utterance to a low inward laugh, and leaned herself back against the trunk of the tree upon which she was sitting, with her knees drawn up almost to her chin.
The blow seemed to act on Juba as a shock on his nervous system, both from its violence and its strangeness. He stood still for a moment, and then, without saying a word, he turned away, and walked slowly down the hill, as if in a maze. Then he sat down....
In an instant up he started again with a great cry, and began running at the top of his speed. He thought he heard a voice speaking in him; and, how[pg 265]ever fast he ran, the voice, or whatever it was, kept up with him. He rushed through the underwood, trampling and crushing it under his feet, and scaring the birds and small game which lodged there. At last, exhausted, he stood still for breath, when he heard it say loudly and deeply, as if speaking with his own organs, “You cannot escape from yourself!” Then a terror seized him; he fell down and fainted away.
When his senses returned, his first impression was of something in him not himself. He felt it in his breathing; he tasted it in his mouth. The brook which ran by Gurta’s encampment had by this time become a streamlet, though still shallow. He plunged into it; a feeling came upon him as if he ought to drown himself, had it been deeper. He rolled about in it, in spite of its flinty and rocky bed. When he came out of it, his tunic sticking to him, he tore it off his shoulders, and let it hang round his girdle in shreds, as it might. The shock of the water, however, acted as a sedative upon him, and the coolness of the night refreshed him. He walked on for a while in silence.
Suddenly the power within him began uttering, by means of his organs of speech, the most fearful blasphemies, words embodying conceptions which, had they come into his mind, he might indeed have borne with patience before this, or uttered in bravado, but which now filled him with inexpressible loathing, and a terror to which he had hitherto been quite a stranger. He had always in his heart believed in a God, but he now believed with a reality and intensity [pg 267]utterly new to him. He felt it as if he saw Him; he felt there was a world of good and evil beings. He did not love the good, or hate the evil; but he shrank from the one, and he was terrified at the other; and he felt himself carried away, against his will, as the prey of some dreadful, mysterious power, which tyrannised over him.
The day had closed—the moon had risen. He plunged into the thickest wood, and the trees seemed to him to make way for him. Still they seemed to moan and to creak as they moved out of their place. Soon he began to see that they were looking at him, and exulting over his misery. They, of an inferior nature, had had no gift which they could abuse and lose; and they remained in that honour and perfection in which they were created. Birds of the night flew out of them, reptiles slunk away; yet soon he began to be surrounded, wherever he went, by a circle of owls, bats, ravens, crows, snakes, wild cats, and apes, which were always looking at him, but somehow made way, retreating before him, and yet forming again, and in order, as he marched along.
He had passed through the wing of the forest which he had entered, and penetrated into the more mountainous country. He ascended the heights; he was a taller, stronger man than he had been; he went forward with a preternatural vigour, and flourished his arms with the excitement of some vinous or gaseous intoxication. He heard the roar of the wild beasts echoed along the woody ravines [pg 268]which were cut into the solid mountain rock, with a reckless feeling, as if he could cope with them. As he passed the dens of the lion, leopard, hyena, jackal, wild boar, and wolf, there he saw them sitting at the entrance, or stopping suddenly as they prowled along, and eyeing him, but not daring to approach. He strode along from rock to rock, and over precipices, with the certainty and ease of some giant in Eastern fable. Suddenly a beast of prey came across him; in a moment he had torn up by the roots the stump of a wild vine plant, which was near him; had thrown himself upon his foe before it could act on the aggressive, had flung it upon its back, forced the weapon into its mouth, and was stamping on its chest. He knocked the life out of the furious animal; and crying “Take that,” tore its flesh, and, applying his mouth to the wound, sucked a draught of its blood.
He has passed over the mountain, and has descended its side. Bristling shrubs, swamps, precipitous banks, rushing torrents, are no obstacle to his course. He has reached the brow of a hill, with a deep placid river at the foot of it, just as the dawn begins to break. It is a lovely prospect, which every step he takes is becoming more definite and more various in the daylight. Masses of oleander, of great beauty, with their red blossoms, fringed the river, and tracked out its course into the distance. The bank of the hill below him, and on the right and left, was a maze of fruit-trees, about which nature, if it were not the hand of man, had had no thought except that they should be [pg 269]all together there. The wild olive, the pomegranate, the citron, the date, the mulberry, the peach, the apple, and the walnut, formed a sort of spontaneous orchard. Across the water, groves of palm-trees waved their long and graceful branches in the morning breeze. The stately and solemn ilex, marshalled into long avenues, showed the way to substantial granges or luxurious villas. The green turf or grass was spread out beneath, and here and there flocks and herds were emerging out of the twilight, and growing distinct upon the eye. Elsewhere the ground rose up into sudden eminences crowned with chestnut woods, or with plantations of cedar and acacia, or wildernesses of the cork-tree, the turpentine, the carooba, the white poplar, and the Phenician juniper, while overhead ascended the clinging tendrils of the hop, and an underwood of myrtle clothed their stems and roots. A profusion of wild flowers carpeted the ground far and near.
Juba stood and gazed till the sun rose opposite to him, envying, repining, hating, like Satan looking in upon Paradise. The wild mountains, or the locust-smitten track would have better suited the tumult of his mind. It would have been a relief to him to have retreated from so fair a scene, and to have retraced his steps, but he was not his own master, and was hurried on. Sorely against his determined strong resolve and will, crying out and protesting and shuddering, the youth was forced along into the fulness of beauty and blessing with which he was so [pg 270]little in tune. With rage and terror he recognised that he had no part in his own movements, but was a mere slave. In spite of himself he must go forward and behold a peace and sweetness which witnessed against him. He dashed down through the thick grass, plunged into the water, and without rest or respite began a second course of aimless toil and travail through the day.
The savage dogs of the villages howled and fled from him as he passed by; beasts of burden, on their way to market, which he overtook or met, stood still, foamed and trembled; the bright birds, the blue jay and golden oriole, hid themselves under the leaves and grass; the storks, a religious and domestic bird, stopped their sharp clattering note from the high tree or farmhouse turret, where they had placed their nests; the very reptiles skulked away from his shadow, as if it were poisonous. The boors who were at their labour in the fields suspended it, to look at one whom the Furies were lashing and whirling on. Hour passed after hour, the sun attained its zenith, and then declined, but this dreadful compulsory race continued. Oh, what would he have given for one five minutes of oblivion, of slumber, of relief from the burning thirst which now consumed him! but the master within him ruled his muscles and his joints, and the intense pain of weariness had no concomitant prostration of strength. Suddenly he began to laugh hideously; and he went forward dancing and singing loud, and playing antics. He entered a [pg 271]hovel, made faces at the children, till one of them fell into convulsions, and he ran away with another; and when some country people pursued him, he flung the child in their faces, saying, “Take that,” and said he was Pentheus, king of Thebes, of whom he had never heard, about to solemnise the orgies of Bacchus, and he began to spout a chorus of Greek, a language he had never learnt or heard spoken.
Now it is evening again, and he has come up to a village grove, where the rustics were holding a feast in honour of Pan. The hideous brutal god, with yawning mouth, horned head, and goat’s feet, was placed in a rude shed, and a slaughtered lamb, decked with flowers, lay at his feet. The peasants were frisking before him, boys and women, when they were startled by the sight of a gaunt, wild, mysterious figure, which began to dance too. He flung and capered about with such vigour that they ceased their sport to look on, half with awe and half as a diversion. Suddenly he began to groan and to shriek, as if contending with himself, and willing and not willing some new act; and the struggle ended in his falling on his hands and knees, and crawling like a quadruped towards the idol. When he got near, his attitude was still more servile; still groaning and shuddering, he laid himself flat on the ground, and wriggled to the idol as a worm, and lapped up with his tongue the mingled blood and dust which lay about the sacrifice. And then again, as if nature had successfully asserted her own dignity, he jumped up [pg 272]high in the air, and, falling on the god, broke him to pieces, and scampered away out of pursuit, before the lookers-on recovered from their surprise.
Another restless, fearful night amid the open country; ... but it seemed as if the worst had passed, and, though still under the heavy chastisement of his pride, there was now more in Juba of human action and of effectual will. The day broke, and he found himself on the road to Sicca. The beautiful outline of the city was right before him. He passed his brother’s cottage and garden; it was a wreck. The trees torn up, the fences broken down, and the room pillaged of the little that could be found there. He went on to the city, crying out “Agellius;” the gate was open, and he entered. He went on to the Forum; he crossed to the house of Jucundus; few people as yet were stirring in the place. He looked up at the wall. Suddenly, by the help of projections, and other irregularities of the brickwork, he mounted up upon the flat roof, and dropped down along the tiles, through the impluvium into the middle of the house. He went softly into Agellius’s closet, where he was asleep, he roused him with the name of Callista, threw his tunic upon him, which was by his side, put his boots into his hands, and silently beckoned him to follow him. When he hesitated, he still whispered to him “Callista,” and at length seized him and led him on. He unbarred the street door, and with a movement of his arm, more like a blow than a farewell, thrust him into the street. Then he barred again the [pg 273]door upon him, and lay down himself upon the bed which Agellius had left. His good Angel, we may suppose, had gained a point in his favour, for he lay quiet, and fell into a heavy sleep.
We will hope that the reader, as well as Agellius, is attracted by the word Callista, and wishes to know something about her fate; nay, perhaps finds fault with us as having suffered him so long to content himself with the chance and second-hand information which Jucundus or Juba has supplied. If we have been wanting in due consideration for him, we now trust to make up for it.
When Callista, then, had so boldly left the cottage to stop the intruders, she had in one important point reckoned without her host. She spoke Latin fluently, herself, and could converse with the townspeople, most of whom could do the same; but it was otherwise with the inhabitants of the country, numbers of whom, as we have said, were in Sicca on the day of the outbreak. The two fellows, whom she went out to withstand, knew neither her nor the Latin tongue. They were of a race which called itself Canaanite, and really was so; huge, gigantic men, who looked like the sons of Enac, described in Holy Writ. They knew nothing of roads or fences, and had scrambled up the hill as they could, the shortest way, and, [pg 275]being free from the crowd, with far more expedition than had they followed the beaten track. She and they could not understand each other’s speech; but her appearance spoke for her, and, in consequence, they seized on her as their share of the booty, and without more ado, carried her off towards Sicca. As they came up by a route of their own, so they returned, and entered the city by a gate more to the south, not the Septimian; a happy circumstance, as otherwise she would have stood every chance of being destroyed in that wholesale massacre which the soldiery inflicted on the crowd as it returned.
These giants, then, got possession of Callista, and she entered Sicca upon the shoulder of one of them, who danced in with no greater inconvenience than if he was carrying on it a basket of flowers, or a box of millinery. Here the party met with the city police, who were stationed at the gate.
“Down with your live luggage, you rascals,” they said, in their harsh Punic; “what have you to do with plunder of this kind? and how came you by her?”
“She’s one of those Christian rats, your worship,” answered the fellow, who, strong as he was, did not relish a contest with some dozen of armed men. “Long live the Emperor! We’ll teach her to eat asses’ heads another time, and brew fevers. I found her with a party of Christians. She’s nothing but a witch, and she knows the consequences.”
“Let her go, you drunken animal!” said the constable, still keeping his distance. “I’ll never believe [pg 276]any woman is a Christian, let alone so young a one. And now I look at her, so far as I can see by this light, I think she’s priestess of one of the great temples up there.”
“She can turn herself into anything,” said the other of her capturers, “young or old. I saw her one night near Madaura, a month ago, in the tombs in the shape of a black cat.”
“Away with you both, in the name of the Suffetes of Sicca and all the magistracy!” cried the official. “Give up your prisoner to the authorities of the place, and let the law take its course.”
But the Canaanites did not seem disposed to give her up, and neither party liking to attack the other, a compromise took place. “Well,” said the guardian of the night, “the law must be vindicated, and the peace preserved. My friends, you must submit to the magistrates. But since she happens to be on your shoulder, my man, let her even remain there, and we depute you, as a beast of burden, to carry her for us, thereby to save us the trouble. Here, child,” he continued, “you’re our prisoner; so you shall plead your own cause in the popina there. Long live Decius, pious and fortunate! Long live this ancient city, colony and municipium! Cheer up, my lass, and sing us a stave or two, as we go; for I’ll pledge a cyathus of unmixed, that, if you choose, you can warble notes as sweet as the manna gum.”
Callista was silent, but she was perfectly collected, and ready to avail herself of any opportunity to [pg 277]better her condition. They went on towards the Forum, where a police-office, as we now speak, was situated, but did not reach it without an adventure. The Roman military force at Sicca was not more than a century of men; the greater number were at this moment at the great gate, waiting for the mob; a few, in parties of three and four, were patrolling the city. Several of these were at the entrance of the Forum when the party came up to it; and it happened that a superior officer, who was an assistant to what may be called the military president of the place, a young man, on whom much of the duty of the day had devolved, was with the soldiers. She had known him as a friend of her brother’s, and recognised him in the gloom, and at once took advantage of the meeting.
“Help,” she said, “gentlemen! help, Calphurnius! these rascals are carrying me off to some den of their own.”
The tribune at once knew her voice. “What!” he cried, with great astonishment, “what, my pretty Greek! You most base, infamous, and unmannerly scoundrels, down with her this instant! What have you to do with that young lady? You villains, unless you would have me crack your African skulls with the hilt of my sword, down with her, I say!”
There was no resisting a Roman voice, but prompt obedience is a rarity, and the ruffians began to parley. “My noble master,” said the constable, “she’s our prisoner. Jove preserve you, and Bacchus and [pg 278]Ceres bless you, my lord tribune! and long life to the Emperor Decius in these bad times. But she is a rioter, my lord, one of the ringleaders, and a Christian and a witch to boot.”
“Cease your vile gutturals, you animal!” cried the officer, “or I will ram them down your throat with my pike to digest them. Put down the lady, beast. Are you thinking twice about it? Go, Lucius,” he said to a private, “kick him away, and bring the woman here.”
Callista was surrendered, but the fellow, sullen at the usage he had met with, and spiteful against Calphurnius, as the cause of it, cried out maliciously, “Mind what you are at, noble sir, it’s not our affair; you can fry your own garlic. But an Emperor is an Emperor, and an Edict is an Edict, and a Christian is a Christian; and I don’t know what high places will say to it, but it’s your affair. Take notice,” he continued, as he got to a safer distance, raising his voice still higher, that the soldiers might hear, “yon girl is a Christian priestess, caught in a Christian assembly, sacrificing asses and eating children for the overthrow of the Emperor, and the ruin of his loyal city of Sicca, and I have been interrupted in the discharge of my duty—I, a constable of the place. See whether Calphurnius will not bring again upon us the plague, the murrain, the locusts, and all manner of larvæ and maniæ before the end of the story.”
This speech perplexed Calphurnius, as it was intended. It was impossible he could dispose of Cal[pg 279]lista as he wished, with such a charge formally uttered in the presence of his men. He knew how serious the question of Christianity was at that moment, and how determined the Imperial Government was on the eradication of its professors; he was a good soldier, devoted to head-quarters, and had no wish to compromise himself with his superiors, or to give bystanders an advantage over him, by setting a prisoner at liberty without inquiry, who had been taken in a Christian’s house. He muttered an oath, and said to the soldiers, “Well, my lads, to the Triumviri with her, since it must be so. Cheer up, my star of the morning, bright beam of Hellas, it is only as a matter of form, and you will be set at liberty as soon as they look on you.” And with these words he led the way to the Officium.
But the presiding genius of the Officium was less accommodating than he had anticipated. It might be that he was jealous of the soldiery, or of their particular interference, or indignant at the butchery at the great gate, of which the news had just come, or out of humour with the day’s work, and especially with the Christians; at any rate, Calphurnius found he had better have taken a bolder step, and have carried her as a prisoner to the camp. However, nothing was now left for him but to depart; and Callista fell again into the hands of the city, though of the superior functionaries, who procured her a lodging for the night, and settled to bring her up for examination next morning.
[pg 280]The morning came, and she was had up. What passed did not transpire; but the issue was that she was remanded for a further hearing, and was told she might send to her brother, and acquaint him where she was. He was allowed one interview with her, and he came away almost out of his senses, saying she was bewitched, and fancied herself a Christian. What precisely she had said to him, which gave this impression, he could hardly say; but it was plain there must be something wrong, or there would not be that public process and formal examination which was fixed for the third day afterwards.
Were the origin of Juba’s madness (or whatever the world would call it) of a character which admitted of light writing about it, much might be said on the surprise of the clear-headed, narrow-minded, positive, and easy-going Jucundus, when he found one nephew substituted for another, and had to give over his wonder at Agellius, in order to commence a series of acts of amazement and consternation at Juba. He summoned Jupiter and Juno, Bacchus, Ceres, Pomona, Neptune, Mercury, Minerva, and great Rome, to witness the marvellous occurrence; and then he had recourse to the infernal gods, Pluto and Proserpine, down to Cerberus, if he be one of them; but, after all, there the portent was, in spite of all the deities which Olympus, or Arcadia, or Latium ever bred; and at length it had a nervous effect upon the old gentleman’s system, and, for the first evening after it, he put all his good things from him, and went to bed supperless and songless. What had been Juba’s motive in the exploit which so unpleasantly affected his uncle, it is of course quite impossible to say. Whether his mention of Callista’s name was intended to be for the [pg 282]benefit of her soul, or the ruin of Agellius’s, must be left in the obscurity in which the above narrative presents it to us; so far alone is certain, though it does not seem to throw light on the question, that, on his leaving his uncle’s house in the course of the forenoon, which he did, without being pressed to stay, he was discovered prancing and gesticulating in the neighbourhood of Callista’s prison, so as to excite the attention of the apparitor, or constable, who guarded the entrance, and who, alarmed at his wildness, sent for some of his fellows, and, with their assistance, repelled the intruder, who, thereupon, scudding out at the eastern gate, was soon lost in the passes of the mountain.
To one thing, however, we may pledge ourselves, that Juba had no intention of shaking, even for one evening, the nerves of Jucundus; yet shaken they were till about the same time twenty-four hours afterwards. And when in that depressed state, he saw nothing but misery on all sides of him. Juba was lost; Agellius worse. Of course, he had joined himself to his sect, and he should never see him again; and how should he ever hold up his head? Well, he only hoped Agellius would not be boiled in a caldron, or roasted at a slow fire. If this were done, he positively must leave Sicca, and the most thriving trade which any man had in the whole of the Proconsulate. And then that little Callista! Ah!—what a real calamity was there! Anyhow he had lost her, and what should he do for a finisher of his fine work in marble, or metal? [pg 283]She was a treasure in herself. Altogether the heavens were very dark; and it was scarcely possible for any one who knew well his jovial cast of countenance, to keep from laughing, whatever his real sympathy, at the unusual length and blankness which were suddenly imposed upon it.
While he sat thus at his shop window, which, as it were, framed him for the contemplation of passers-by, on the day of the escape of Agellius, and the day before Callista’s public examination, Aristo rushed in upon him in a state of far more passionate and more reasonable grief. He had called, indeed, the day before, but he found a pleasure in expending his distress upon others, and he came again to get rid of its insupportable weight by discharging it in a torrent of tears and exclamations. However, at first the words of both “moved slow,” as the poet says, and went off in a sort of dropping fire.
“Well,” said Jucundus, in a depressed tone; “he’s not come to you, of course?”
“Who?”
“Agellius.”
“Oh! Agellius! No, he’s not with me.” Then, after a pause, Aristo added, “Why should he be?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought he might be. He’s been gone since early morning.”
“Indeed! No, I don’t know where he is. How came he with you?”
“I told you yesterday; but you have forgotten. I was sheltering him; but he’s gone for ever.”
[pg 284]“Indeed!”
“And his brother’s mad!—horribly mad!” and he slapped his hand against his thigh.
“I always thought it,” answered Aristo.
“Did you? Yes, so it is; but it’s very different from what it ever was. The furies have got hold of him with a vengeance! He’s frantic! Oh, if you had seen him! Two boys, both mad! It’s all the father!”
“I thought you’d like to hear something about dear, sweet Callista,” said her brother.
“Yes, I should indeed!” answered Jucundus. “By Esculapius! they’re all mad together!”
“Well, it is like madness!” cried Aristo, with great vehemence.
“The world’s going mad!” answered Jucundus, who was picking up, since he began to talk, an exercise which was decidedly good for him. “We are all going mad! I shall get crazed. The townspeople are crazed already. What an abominable, brutal piece of business was that three days ago! I put up my shutters. Did it come near you?—all on account of one or two beggarly Christians, and my poor boy. What harm could two or three, toads and vipers though they be, do here? They might have been trodden down easily. It’s another thing at Carthage. Catch the ringleaders, I say; make examples. The foxes escape, and our poor ganders suffer!”
Aristo, pierced with his own misery, had no heart or head to enter into the semi-political ideas of Jucundus, who continued,—
[pg 285]“Yes, it’s no good. The empire’s coming to pieces, mark my words! I told you so, if those beasts were let alone. They have been let alone. Remedies are too late. Decius will do no good. No one’s safe! Farewell, my friends! I am going. Like poor dear Callista, I shall be in prison, and, like her, find myself dumb!... Ah! yes, Callista; how did you find her?”
“O dear, sweet, suffering girl!” cried her brother.
“Yes, indeed!” answered Jucundus; “yes!” meditatively. “She is a dear, sweet, suffering girl! I thought he might perhaps have taken her off—that was my hope. He was so set upon hearing where she was, whether she could be got out. It struck me he had made the best of his way to her. She could do anything with him. And she loved him, she did!—I’m convinced of it!—nothing shall convince me otherwise! ‘Bring them together,’ I said, ‘and they will rush into each other’s arms.’ But they’re bewitched!—The whole world’s bewitched! Mark my words,—I have an idea who is at the bottom of this.”
“Oh!” groaned out Aristo; “I care not for top or bottom!—I care not for the whole world, or for anything at all but Callista! If you could have seen the dear, patient sufferer!” and the poor fellow burst into a flood of tears.
“Bear up! bear up!” said Jucundus, who by this time was considerably better; “show yourself a man, my dear Aristo. These things must be;—they are [pg 286]the lot of human nature. You remember what the tragedian says: stay! no!—it’s the comedian,—it’s Menander”——
“To Orcus and Erebus with all the tragedy and comedy that ever was spouted!” exclaimed Aristo. “Can you do nothing for me? Can’t you give me a crumb of consolation or sympathy, encouragement or suggestion? I am a stranger in the country, and so is this dear sister of mine, whom I was so proud of; and who has been so good, and kind, and gentle, and sweet. She loved me so much, she never grudged me anything; she let me do just what I would with her. Come here, go there,—it was just as I would. There we were, two orphans together, ten years since, when I was double her age. She wished to stay in Greece; but she came to this detestable Africa all for me. She would be gay and bright when I would have her so. She had no will of her own; and she set her heart upon nothing, and was pleased anywhere. She had not an enemy in the world. I protest she is worth all the gods and goddesses that ever were hatched! And here, in this ill-omened Africa, the evil eye has looked at her, and she thinks herself a Christian, when she is just as much a hippogriff, or a chimæra.”
“Well, but, Aristo,” said Jucundus, “I was going to tell you who is at the bottom of it all. Callista’s mad; Agellius is mad; Juba is mad; and Strabo was mad;—but it was his wife, old Gurta, that drove him mad;—and there, I think, is the beginning of our [pg 287]troubles.——Come in! come in, Cornelius!” he cried, seeing his Roman friend outside, and relapsing for the moment into his lugubrious tone; “Come in, Cornelius, and give us some comfort, if you can. Well, this is like a friend! I know if you can help me, you will.”
Cornelius answered that he was going back to Carthage in a day or two, and came to embrace him, and had hoped to have a parting supper before he went.
“That’s kind!” answered Jucundus: “but first tell me all about this dreadful affair; for you are in the secrets of the Capitol. Have they any clue what has become of my poor Agellius?”
Cornelius had not heard of the young man’s troubles, and was full of consternation at the news.
“What! Agellius really a Christian?” he said, “and at such a moment? Why, I thought you talked of some young lady who was to keep him in order?”
“She’s a Christian too,” replied Jucundus; and a silence ensued. “It’s a bad world!” he continued. “She’s imprisoned by the Triumviri. What will be the end of it?”
Cornelius shook his head, and looked mysterious.
“You don’t mean it?” said Jucundus. “Not anything so dreadful, I do trust, Cornelius. Not the stake?”
Cornelius still looked gloomy and pompous.
[pg 288]“Nothing in the way of torture?” he went on; “not the rack, or the pitchfork?”
“It’s a bad business, on your own showing,” said Cornelius: “it’s a bad business!”
“Can you do nothing for us, Cornelius?” cried Aristo. “The great people in Carthage are your friends. O Cornelius! I’d do anything for you!—I’d be your slave! She’s no more a Christian than great Jove. She has nothing about her of the cut;—not a shred of her garment, or a turn of her hair. She’s a Greek from head to foot—within and without. She’s as bright as the day! Ah! we have no friends here. Dear Callista! you will be lost because you are a foreigner!” and the passionate youth began to tear his hair. “O Cornelius!” he continued, “if you can do anything for us! Oh! she shall sing and dance to you; she shall come and kneel down to you, and embrace your knees, and kiss your feet, as I do, Cornelius!” and he knelt down, and would have taken hold of Cornelius’s beard.
Cornelius had never been addressed with so poetical a ceremonial, which nevertheless he received with awkwardness indeed, but with satisfaction. “I hear from you,” he said with pomposity, “that your sister is in prison on suspicion of Christianity. The case is a simple one. Let her swear by the genius of the Emperor, and she is free; let her refuse it, and the law must take its course,” and he made a slight bow.
“Well, but she is under a delusion,” persisted Aristo, “which cannot last long. She says distinctly [pg 289]that she is not a Christian, is not that decisive? but then she won’t burn incense; she won’t swear by Rome. She tells me she does not believe in Jupiter, nor I; can anything be more senseless? It is the act of a mad woman. I say, ‘My girl, the question is, Are you to be brought to shame? are you to die by the public sword? die in torments?’ Oh, I shall go mad as well as she!” he screamed out. “She was so clever, so witty, so sprightly, so imaginative, so versatile! why, there’s nothing she couldn’t do. She could model, paint, play on the lyre, sing, act. She could work with the needle, she could embroider. She made this girdle for me. It’s all that Agellius, it’s Agellius. I beg your pardon, Jucundus; but it is;” and he threw himself on the ground, and rolled in the dust.
“I have been telling our young friend,” said Jucundus to Cornelius, “to exert self-control, and to recollect Menander, ‘Ne quid nimis.’ Grieving does no good; but these young fellows, it’s no use at all speaking to them. Do you think you could do anything for us, Cornelius?”
“Why,” answered Cornelius, “since I have been here, I have fallen in with a very sensible man, and a man of remarkably sound political opinions. He has a great reputation, he is called Polemo, and is one of the professors at the Mercury. He seems to me to go to the root of these subjects, and I’m surprised how well we agreed. He’s a Greek, as well as this young gentleman’s sister. I should recommend him [pg 290]to go to Polemo; if any one could disabuse her mind, it is he.”
“True, true,” cried Aristo, starting up, “but, no, you can do it better; you have power with the government. The Proconsul will listen to you. The magistrates here are afraid of him; they don’t wish to touch the poor girl, not they. But there’s such a noise everywhere, and so much ill blood, and so many spies and informers, and so much mistrust—but why should it come upon Callista? Why should she be a sacrifice? But you’d oblige the Duumvirs as much as me in getting her out of the scrape. But what good would it do, if they took her dear life? Only get us the respite of a month; the delusion would vanish in a month. Get two months, if you can; or as long as you can, you know. Perhaps they would let us steal out of the country, and no one the wiser; and no harm to any one. It was a bad job our coming here.”
“We know nothing at Rome of feelings and intentions, and motives and distinctions,” said Cornelius; “and we know nothing of understandings, connivances, and evasions. We go by facts; Rome goes by facts. The question is, What is the fact? Does she burn incense, or does she not? Does she worship the ass, or does she not? However, we’ll see what can be done.” And so he went on, informing the pair of mourners that, as far as his influence extended, he would do something in behalf both of Agellius and Callista.