CHAPTER XXI

A MANUMISSION

“Blanda, what shall I do?”

Æmilius had withdrawn immediately after the interview in the citron‐house, and Perpetua was left a prey to even greater distress of mind than before.

Accustomed to lean on her mother, she was now without support. She drew towards the female slave, who had a patient, gentle face, marked with suffering.

“Blanda, what shall I do?”

“Mistress, how can I advise? If you had been graciously pleased to take counsel of my master, he would have instructed you.”

“Alack! what I desire is to find my mother. If, as I suppose, she is in concealment in Nemausus, he will be unable to discover her. No clue will be put into his hand. He will be regarded with suspicion. He will search; I do not doubt his good will, but he will not find. Those who know where my mother is will look on him with suspicion. O Blanda, is there none in this house who believes, whom I could send to some of the Church?”

“Lady,” answered the slave, “there be no Christians here. There is a Jew, but he entertains a deadly hate of such as profess to belong to this sect. To the rest one religion is as indifferent as another. Some swear by the White Ladies, some by Serapis, and there is one who talks much of Mithras, but who this god is I know not.”

“If I am to obtain information it must be through some one who is to be trusted.”

“Lady,” said the woman‐slave, “the master has given strict orders that none shall speak of you as having found a shelter here. Yet when slaves get together, by the Juno of the oaks, I believe men chatter and are greater magpies than we women; their tongues run away with them, especially when they taste wine. If one of the family were sent on this commission into the town, ten _sesterces_ to an _as_, he would tell that you are here, and would return as owlish and ignorant as when he went forth. Men’s minds are cudgels, not awls. If thou desirest to find out a thing, trust a woman, not a man.”

“I cannot rest till I have news.”

“There has been a great search made after Christians, and doubtless she is, as thou sayest, in concealment, surely among friends. Have patience.”

“But, Blanda, she is in an agony of mind as to what has become of me.”

The slave‐woman considered for awhile, and then said:

“There is a man who might help; he certainly can be relied on. He is of the strange sect I know, and he would do anything for me, and would betray no secrets.”

“Who is that?”

“His name is Pedo, and he is the slave to Baudillas Macer, son of Carisius Adgonna, who has a house in the lower town.”

“O Blanda!” exclaimed Perpetua, “it was from the house of Baudillas that I was enticed away.” Then, after some hesitation, she added: “That house, I believe, was invaded by the mob; but I think my mother had first escaped.”

“Lady, I have heard that Baudillas has been taken before the magistrate, and has been cast into the _robur_, because that in his house was found the head of the god; and it was supposed that he was guilty of the sacrilege, either directly or indirectly. He that harbors a thief is guilty as the thief. I heard that yesterday. No news has since been received. I mistrust my power of reaching the town, of standing against the gale. Moreover, as the master has been imprisoned, it is not likely that the slave will be in the empty house. Yet, if thou wilt tarry till the gale be somewhat abated and the rain cease to fall in such a rush, I will do my utmost to assist thee. I will go to the town myself, and communicate with Pedo, if I can find him. He will trust me, poor fellow!”

“I cannot require thee to go forth in this furious wind,” said Perpetua.

“And, lady, thou must answer to my master for me. Say that I went at thine express commands; otherwise I shall be badly beaten.”

“Is thy master so harsh?”

“Oh, I am a slave. Who thinks of a slave any more than of an ass or a lapdog? It was through a severe scourging with the cat that I was brought to know Pedo.”

“Tell me, how was that?”

“Does my lady care for matters that affect her slave?”

“Nay, good Blanda, we Christians know no difference between bond and free. All are the children of one God, who made man. Our master, though Lord of all, made Himself of no reputation, but took on Him the form of a servant; and was made subject for us.”

“That is just how Pedo talks. We slaves have our notions of freedom and equality, and there is much tall talk in the servants’ hall on the rights of man. But I never heard of a master or mistress holding such opinions.”

“Nevertheless this doctrine is a principle of our religion. Listen to this; the words are those of one of our great teachers: ‘There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.’”

“Was he a slave who said that?”

“No; he was a Roman citizen.”

“That I cannot understand. Yet perhaps he spoke it at an election time, or when he was an advocate in the forum. It was a sentiment; very fine, smartly put, but not to be practiced.”

“There, Blanda, you are wrong. We Christians do act upon this principle, and it forms a bond of union between us.”

“Well, I understand it not. I have heard the slaves declaim among themselves, saying that they were as good as, nay, better than, their masters; but they never whispered such a thought where were their masters’ ears, or they would have been soundly whipped. In the forum, when lawyers harangue, they say fine things of this sort; and when candidates are standing for election, either as a sevir or as a quatuorvir, all sorts of fine words fly about, and magnificent promises are made, but they are intended only to tickle ears and secure votes. None believe in them save the vastly ignorant and the very fools.”

“Come, tell me about thyself and Pedo.”

“Ah, lady, that was many years ago. I was then in the household of Helvia Secundilla, wife of Calvius Naso. On one occasion, because I had not brought her May‐dew wherewith to bathe her face to remove sun‐spots, she had me cruelly beaten. There were knucklebones knotted in the cat wherewith I was beaten. Thirty‐nine lashes I received. I could not collect May‐dew, for the sky was overcast and the herb was dry. But she regarded not my excuse. Tullia, my fellow‐slave, was more sly. She filled a flask at a spring and pretended that she had gathered it off the grass, and that her fraud might not be detected, she egged her mistress on against me. I was chastised till my back was raw.”

“Poor Blanda!”

“Aye, my back was one bleeding wound, and yet I was compelled to put on my garment and go forth again after May‐dew. It was then that I encountered Pedo. I was in such pain that I walked sobbing, and my tears fell on the arid grass. He came to me, moved by compassion, and spoke kindly, and my heart opened, and I told him all. Then he gave me a flask filled with a water in which elder flowers had been steeped, and bade me wash my back therewith.”

“And it healed thee?”

“It soothed the fever of my blood and the anguish of my wounds. They closed, and in a few days were cicatriced. But Pedo had been fellow‐slave with a Jewish physician, and from him had learned the use of simples. My mistress found no advantage from the spring‐water brought her as May‐dew. Then I offered her some of the decoction given me by Pedo, and that had a marvelous effect on her freckles. Afterwards her treatment of me was kinder, and it was Tullia who received the whippings.”

“And did you see more of Pedo?”

Blanda colored.

“Mistress, that was the beginning of our acquaintance. He was with a good master, Baudillas Macer, who, he said, would manumit him at any time. But, alas! what would that avail me? I remained in bondage. Ah, lady, Pedo regarded me with tenderness, and, indeed, I could have been happy with none other but him.”

“He is old and lame.”

“Ah, lady, I think the way he moves on his lame hip quite beautiful. I do not admire legs when one is of the same length as another—it gives a stiff uniformity not to my taste.”

“And he is old?”

“Ripe, lady—full ripe as a fig in August. Sour fruit are unpleasant to eat. Young men are prigs and think too much of themselves.”

“How long ago was it that this acquaintance began?”

“Five and twenty years. I trusted, when my master, Calvius Naso—he was so called because he really had a long nose, and my mistress was wont to tweak it—but there! I wander. I did think that he would have given me my freedom. In his illness I attended to him daily, nightly. I did not sleep, I was ever on the watch for him. As to my mistress, she was at her looking‐glass, and using depilatory fluid on some hairs upon her chin, expecting shortly to be a widow. She did not concern herself about the master. He died, but left money only for the erection of a statue in the forum. Me he utterly forgot. Then my mistress sold me to the father of my present master. When he died also he manumitted eight slaves, but they were all men. His monument stands beside the road to Tolosa, with eight Phrygian caps sculptured on it, to represent the manumissions; but me—he forgot.”

“Then, for all these five and twenty years you have cared for Pedo and desired to be united to him!”

“Yes, I longed for it greatly for twenty years, and so did he, poor fellow; but, after that, hope died. I have now no hope, no joy in life, no expectation of aught. Presently will come death, and death ends all.”

“No, Blanda; that is not what we hold. We look for eternal life.”

“For masters, not for slaves.”

“For slaves as well as masters, and then God will wipe away all tears from our eyes.”

“Alack, mistress. The power to hope is gone from me. In a wet season, when there is little sun, then the fruit mildews on the tree and drops off. When we were young we put forth the young fruit of hopes; but there has been no sun. They fall off, and the tree can bear no more.”

“Blanda, if ever I have the power——”

“Oh, mistress, with my master you can do anything.”

“Blanda, I do not know that I can ask him for this—thy freedom. But, if the opportunity offers, I certainly will not forget thee.”

A slave appeared at the door and signed to Blanda, who, with an obeisance, asked leave to depart. The leave was given, and she left the room.

Presently she returned in great excitement, followed by Baudillas and Pedo, both drenched with rain and battered by the gale.

Perpetua uttered an exclamation of delight, and rushed to the deacon with extended arms.

“I pray, I pray, give me some news of my mother.”

But he drew back likewise surprised, and replied with another question:

“The Lady Perpetua! And how come you to be here?”

“That I will tell later,” answered the girl. “Now inform me as to my mother.”

“Alas!” replied Baudillas, wiping the rain from his face, “the news is sad. She has been taken before Petronius, and has been consigned to prison.”

“My mother is in prison!”

The deacon desired to say no more, but he was awkward at disguising his unwillingness to speak the whole truth. The eager eyes of the girl read the hesitation in his face.

“I beseech you,” she urged, “conceal nothing from me.”

“I have told you, she is in jail.”

“On what charge? Who has informed against her?”

“I was not in the court when she was tried. I know very little. I was near the town, waiting about, and I got scraps of information from some of our people, and from Pedo, who went into the city.”

“Then you do know. Answer me truly. Tell me all.”

“I—I was in prison myself, but escaped through the aid of Pedo. I tarried in an old kiln. He advised that I should come on here, where he had friends. Dost thou know that Marcianus has been sentenced? He will win that glorious crown which I have lost. I—I, unworthy, I fled, when it might have been mine. Yet, God forgive me! I am not ungrateful to Pedo. Marcianus said I was a coward, and unfit for the Kingdom of God; that I should be excluded because I had turned back. God forgive me!”

Suddenly Perpetua laid hold of Baudillas by both arms, and so gripped him that the water oozed between her fingers and dropped on the floor.

“I adjure thee, by Him in whom we both believe, answer me truly, speak fully. Is my mother retained in prison till I am found?”

The deacon looked down nervously, uncomfortably, and shuffled from foot to foot.

“Understand,” said he, after a long silence, “all I learned is by hearsay. I really know nothing for certain.”

“I suffer more by your silence than were I to be told the truth, be the truth never so painful.”

“Have I not said it? The Lady Quincta is in prison.”

“Is that all?”

Again he maintained an embarrassed silence.

“It matters not,” said Perpetua firmly. “I will my own self find out what has taken place. I shall return to Nemausus on foot, and immediately. I will deliver myself up to the magistrate and demand my mother’s release.”

“You must not go—the weather is terrible.”

“I shall—nothing can stay me. I shall go, and go alone, and go at once.”

“There is no need for such haste. It is not till to‐morrow that Quincta will be put on the rack.”

“On the rack!”

“Fool that I am! I have uttered what I should have kept secret.”

“It is said. My resolve is formed. I return to Nemausus.”

“Then,” said the deacon, “I will go with thee.”

“There is no need. I will take Blanda.”

“I will go. A girl, a young girl shames me. I run away from death, and she offers herself to the sword. Marcianus said I was a renegade. I will not be thought to have denied my Master—to have fled from martyrdom.”

“Then,” said Perpetua, “I pray thee this—first give freedom unto Pedo.”

Baudillas administered a slight stroke on the cheek to his slave, and said:

“Go; thou art discharged from bondage.”