CHAPTER XI

PALANQUINS

With the exception of the bishop, Marcianus, and a few others, all assembled at the Agape were struck with the liveliest terror. They entertained no doubt but that the sound that shook the walls was provoked by the outrage on the image of the tutelary god, following on the rescue of the victim allotted to him.

The pagan inhabitants of Nemausus were roused to exasperation. The priesthood would employ every available means to work this resentment to a paroxysm, and the result would be riot and murder, perhaps an organized persecution.

It must be understood that although the Roman State recognized other religions than the established paganism, as that of the Jews, and allowed the votaries freedom of worship, yet Christianity was not of this number. It was in itself illegal, and any magistrate, at his option, in any place and at any time, might put the laws in force against the members of the Church. Not only so, but any envious, bigoted, or resentful person might compel a magistrate to take cognizance of the presence of Christians in the district under his jurisdiction, and require him to capitally convict those brought before him.

The system in the Roman Commonwealth for the maintenance of order was that every man was empowered to act as spy upon and delate another. Any man might accuse his neighbor, his brother, before the court; and if he could prove his charge, the magistrate had no option—he must sentence. Consequently the Christians depended for their safety on the favor of their fellow‐citizens, on their own abstention from giving offence.

The sole protection against false accusations in the Roman Commonwealth lay in the penalties to which an accuser was subject should he fail to establish his charge. But as on conviction a portion of the estate of the guilty person was handed over to the accuser, there was an inducement to delation.

Under the Julian and Claudian Cæsars the system had worked terribly. An entire class of men made denunciation their trade. They grew rich on the spoils of their victims, they spared none, and the judges themselves lived in fear of them. The evil became so intolerable that measures were taken to accentuate the risk to the accusers. If the Christians were not oftener denounced, the reason was that in the event of one lapsing, and through terror or pain abjuring Christ, then immediately the tables were turned, and the accuser was placed in danger of his life.

When an Emperor issued an edict against the Christians he enacted no new law; he merely required that the existing laws should be put in force against them, and all risk to delators was removed in that no delation was exacted. On such an occasion every citizen and householder was required to appear before the court and offer a few grains of incense on an altar to the genius of the empire or of the prince. Should any one refuse to do this, then he was convicted of high treason and delivered over to the executioner to be either tortured or put to death off‐hand. When the magistrate deemed it important to obtain a recantation, then he had recourse to the rack, iron hooks, torches, thumbscrews as means of forcing the prisoner through pain to abjure Christ.

The Christians in Nemausus had lived in complete tranquillity. There had been no persecution. They had multiplied.

The peace enjoyed by the Church had been to it of a mixed advantage. Many had been included whose conversion was due to questionable motives. Some had joined through sincere conviction; more from conviction seasoned with expectation of advantage. The poor had soon learned that a very rich and abundant stream of charity flowed in the Church, that in it the sick and feeble were cared for and their necessities were supplied, whereas in the established paganism no regard was paid to the needy and suffering. Among the higher classes there were adherents who attached themselves to the Church rather because they disbelieved in heathenism than that they held to the Gospel. Some accepted the truth with the head, but their hearts remained untouched.

None had given freer expression to his conviction that there were weak‐ kneed and unworthy members than Marcianus the deacon. He had remonstrated with the bishop, he had scolded, repelled, but without effect. And now he had taken a daring step, the consequence of which would be that the members of the community would indeed be put to the test whether they were for Christ or Mammon. The conviction that a time of trial was come broke on the community like a thundercloud, and produced a panic. Many doubted their constancy, all shrank from being brought to a trial of their faith. The congregation in the house of Baudillas, when it had recovered from the first shock, resolved itself into groups agitated by various passions. Some launched into recrimination against Marcianus, who had brought them into jeopardy; some consulted in whispers how to escape the danger; a few fell into complete stupefaction of mind, unable to decide on any course. Others, again, abandoned themselves to despair and shrieked forth hysterical lamentations. Some crowded around Castor, clung to his garments and entreated him to save them. Others endeavored to escape from a place and association that would compromise them, by the back entrance to the servants’ portion of the house.

A few, a very few maintained their composure, and extending their arms fell to prayer.

Baudillas hurried from one party to another uttering words of reassurance, but his face was blanched, his voice quivered, and he was obviously employing formal expressions that conveyed no strength to his own heart. Marcianus, with folded arms, looked at him scornfully, and as he passed, said, “The bishop should not have ordained such an unstable and quaking being as thyself to serve in the sacred ministry.”

“Ah, brother,” sighed Baudillas, “it is with me as with Peter. The spirit truly is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

“That was spoken of him,” answered Marcianus, “before Pentecost and the outpouring of the spirit of strength. Such timidity, such feebleness are unworthy of a Christian.”

“Pray for me that my faith fail not,” said Baudillas, and passed on. By action he deadened his fears. Now came in Pedo, the old servant of the house, who had been sent forth to reconnoiter. His report was not reassuring. The mob was sweeping through the streets, and insisting on every household producing an image at its doors and placing a light before it. There were fuglemen who directed the crowd, which had been divided into bands to perambulate every division of the town and make inquisition of every house. The mob had begun by breaking into such dwellings as were not protected by an image, and wrecking them. But after one or two of such acts of violence, the magistrates had interfered, and although they suffered the people to assemble before the houses and to clamor for the production of an image and a light, yet they sent _vigiles_ (_i.e._, the watch) to guard such dwellings as remained undecorated. When the master of the house refused obedience to the mandate of the mob, then an officer ordered him to open the door, and he summoned him to appear next day in court and there do sacrifice. By this means the mob was satisfied and passed on without violence.

But as the crowd marched down the streets it arrested every man and woman that was encountered, and insisted on their swearing by the gods and blaspheming Christ.

Castor ordered the congregation to depart by twos and by threes, to take side alleys, and to avoid the main thoroughfares. This was possible, as the _posticum_, a back door, communicated with a mean street that had the city wall for one side.

“My sons and daughters in Christ,” said the bishop with composure, “remember that greater is He that is with us than those that be against us. When the servant of Elisha feared, then the Lord opened his eyes that he might behold the angels with chariots and horses of fire prepared to defend His servant. Avoid danger, but if it cannot be avoided stand firm. Remember His words, ‘He that confesseth me before men, him will I also confess before my Father which is in heaven.’”

As soon as all had departed, but not till then, did Castor leave. Marcianus turned with a sneer to his fellow‐deacon and said, “Fly! you have full license from the bishop; and he sets the example himself.”

“I must tarry in my own house,” answered Baudillas. “I have the ladies Quincta and Perpetua under my protection. They cannot return to their home until they be fetched.”

“So! they lean on a broken reed such as thee!”

“Alack! they have none other to trust to.”

“The mob is descending our street,” cried the slave, Pedo, limping in.

“What are we to do?” asked Quincta trembling. “If they discover me and my daughter here we are undone. They will tear her from my arms.”

The deacon Baudillas clasped his hands to his head. Then his slave said: “Master, Tarsius is at the door with litters and bearers. He saith he hath been sent for the lady Perpetua.”

“And for me?” asked Quincta eagerly.

“And for thee also, lady. It is said that guards are observing thy house and that, therefore, thy slaves cannot venture hither. Therefore, so says Tarsius, his master, the wool‐merchant, Julius Largus, hath sent his litters and porters.”

“But his house will be visited!”

“The bearers have instructions as to what shall be done.”

“This is strange,” said Quincta. “I did not suppose that Largus Litomarus would have shown such consideration. We are not acquainted—indeed we belong to different classes——”

“Yet are ye one in Christ,” said the deacon. “Call in Tarsius, he shall explain the matter. But let him be speedy or the rabble will be on us.”

“They are at the head of the street,” said the slave, “and visit the door of Terentius Cominius.”

“He believes.”

“And he has set out a figure of the Good Shepherd before his door with a lamp. The crowd regards it as a Mercury and has cheered and gone on to the next door.”

Tarsius, thoroughly recovered from his intoxication, was now admitted. He looked none in the face, and stumbled through his tale. Julius Largus Litomarus had bidden him offer his litters; there were curtains closing them, and his servants would convey the ladies to a place of security.

Quincta was too frightened, too impatient to be off, to question the man, nor was the deacon more nice in inquiry, for he also was in a condition of nervous unrest.

The shouts of the mob could be heard.

“I do not wholly trust this man,” said Baudillas. “He was expelled for misconduct. Yet, what can we do? Time presses! Hark!—in a brief space the rabble will be here. Next house is a common lodging and will not detain them. Would that Marcianus had remained. He could have advised us. Madam, act as you think best.”

“The mob is on the move,” said Pedo. “They have been satisfied at the house of Dulcius Liber, and now Septimus Philadelphus is bringing out half‐a‐dozen gods. Master—there is not a moment to be lost.”

“Let us fly—quick!” gasped Quincta.

She plucked her daughter’s arm, and fairly dragged her along the passage out of the house.

In the street they saw a flare. The rabble, held in control by some directing spirit, was furnished with torches. It was roaring outside a house, impatient because no statue was produced, and proceeded to throw stones and batter the door.

“That house is empty,” whispered Pedo. “The master was bankrupt and everything sold. There is not a person in it.”

Quincta mounted the _lectica_ or palanquin that was offered, without looking whether her daughter were safe, and allowed the bearers, nay urged them, to start at a trot.

Tarsius remained behind. He handed Perpetua into the second closed litter, then gave the word, and ran beside it, holding the curtains together with one hand.

Baudillas trembling for himself was now left alone.