On reaching home, I was told that Licinius was still absent; and found at the same time a billet upon the table, which informed me that Sabinus had carried Sextus with him to his quarters, and that both expected I would join them there immediately upon my return. I knew not how to refuse compliance, and yet I could not bear the thought of being so far from the Capitol, in case of any message being sent to me from the prison. Since I could do no better, however, I charged Boto to remain in my apartment till sunset, and bring me, without delay, any letter or messenger that might arrive in my absence. Should none such appear within that space, I gave him a note, which I desired him to deliver into the hands of Silo; and having, as I thought, furnished him with sufficient directions how to discharge this commission, I myself took the path to the Prætorian Camp, where I thought it very probable that I might gather some new intelligence as to Cotilius.

The Prætorian who had accompanied Sabinus at my release from the rustic tower, recognized me at the gate, and conducted me immediately to the Centurion, who, to my surprise and displeasure, had directed that I should be ushered without delay to, not his own apart[pg 308]ment, but the general table. Here I was received most courteously, however, and hoping the feast was nearly over, took my place near my friend.

Several of those high-fed warriors who had more than once disposed of the empire, were reclining upon rich couches around the board; and their effeminate exterior would, perhaps, have made them less formidable in my eyes, had I not remembered the youth of the great Cæsar, the Parthian retreat of Antony, and the recent death of Otho.3 There were present, besides, a few casual visiters like ourselves; among others, a sleek Flamen, who reclined on the right hand of the presiding Tribune, and a little bald Greek, who seemed to think it incumbent upon himself to fill up every pause in the conversation, by malicious anecdotes or sarcasms, of which last it was easy to see that the Flamen opposite was a favourite subject. Neither wit nor impiety, however, could make speedy impression upon the smooth-faced Flamen, who seemed to think, if one might judge from his behaviour, that the most acceptable service he could render to the deities, was to do full and devout justice to the gifts of their benevolence.

A very animated discussion concerning the review of the newly-arrived cohorts, (which, I have told you, had taken place that morning by the river side,) relieved for some time the patient Flamen from the attacks of this irreverent person, and engaged the zealous participation of those who had hitherto been the most silent of the company. Sabinus, among the rest, was ready [pg 309]with a world of remarks upon the equipments, the manœuvres, the merits, and the demerits of the troops in question; but something he said was quite at variance with the sentiments of one of his brother Centurions, who disputed with him rather warmly than successfully for a few moments, and at last ended with saying,—“But why should I take so much trouble to discuss the point with you, who, we all know, were thinking of other matters, and saw not much more of the review than if you had been a hundred miles off from it?”

The Centurion coloured a little, and laughed, as it seemed to me, with rather less heartiness than usual; but the disputant pursuing his advantage, said, “Yes, you may laugh if you will; but do you think we are all blind, or do you suppose we are not acquainted with certain particulars? Well, some people dislike the Suburra, but for my part I agree with Sabinus; I think it is one of the genteelest places in Rome, and that there are some of the snuggest houses in it too—and if old men will die, for me, I protest, I don’t see why young men should not succeed them.” The Centurion laughed again, and natural ruddiness of complexion was, I thought, scarcely quite sufficient to account for the flush on his countenance, as he listened to these innuendos. But the master of the feast cut the matter short, by saying that he had a health to propose, and that he expected all present should receive it with honour.—“Here,” said he, “is to the fair lady Rubellia, who is never absent when the Prætorians turn out, and may all things fair and fortunate attend her now and hereafter.” I whispered to Sabinus,—“My friend, I think you have really some reason for blushing. If [pg 310]you had no pity on Xerophrastes, you might at least have had some for the pretty widow.”

He made no answer to this, and looked, if possible, more confused than ever; but, just at that moment, a soldier came in, and delivered a billet to the presiding Tribune, who handed it to Sabinus immediately after he had read it, and said, loud enough to be heard by all those who sate near him, “I wish the Prince would give some of this work to these new comers. But, indeed, I wonder what Lictors are good for now-a-days; but every thing that these Christians are any way concerned in seems to be a matter of importance.”

Sabinus, having read the billet, handed it back again to the Tribune, and said aloud, “Exit Cotilius!—Who would not be of the chorus at the falling of that curtain?”

The Tribune shrugged his shoulders, whispered something into the ear of the messenger, and then, dashing more wine into his cup, said, “Rome will never be a quiet place, nor the Prætorian helmet a comfortable head-piece, till these barbarians be extirpated.”

The Flamen tossed off a full goblet, and, smiting with his hand upon the table, said, “There spake a true Roman, and a worshipper of the Gods. I rejoice to find that there is still some religion in the world; for, what with skulking Jews on the one hand, and bold blasphemous Cyrenæans on the other, so help me Jupiter, the general prospect is dark enough!”

“In my opinion,” quoth the bald Greek, putting on an air of some gravity, “the Jews will have the better of the Cyrenæans. Indeed, I should not be much surprised to see this Christian superstition supplant every [pg 311]other.” The Flamen half started from his couch. “You observe, gentlemen,” proceeded the Greek,—“what great advantage any new superstition has over any thing of the same sort that is old. We all know, for example, that Isis and Cybele have for many years past left comparatively few worshippers to Mars, Apollo,—even to Jupiter. It is lamentable; but it is true. I have heard that unless on some very great day, a gift is now quite a rarity upon the altar of any of the true ancient deities of Rome. Egypt and Mount Ida have done this; and why should not Palestine succeed as well as either? In the meantime, the enlightened contemplate every different manifestation of the superstitious principle with equal indifference; and, I confess to you, I have been a little surprised to perceive how far Trajan is from imitating their example. But that Chæronæan master of his, that Plutarch, was always an old woman; and I fear the Prince has not been able to shake off the impression of his ridiculous stories.”

“Hush!” quoth the master of the day, “if it please you, nothing can be said here against either Trajan or his friends; and, as for Plutarch, he was one of the pleasantest fellows that I ever met with.”

Sabinus, desirous of restoring the harmony of the assembly, called forthwith on a musical senior, to join him in a song. The gentleman required solicitation, but at last announced his consent to attempt the female part in the duet of Horace and Lydia. Sabinus, always ready, began to roar out the tender words of regret and expostulation which the most elegant of poets has ascribed to himself; and the delicate squeaking response of our wrinkled Lydia formed an agreeable contrast.

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All, in short, were once more in perfect good humour, when another soldier appeared behind the couch of the president, and handed to him what seemed to be another billet of the same complexion. He tossed the paper as before to my friend, who looked very serious as he read it.—“Caius,” he whispered, “an additional guard is ordered to the Palatine—and the reason is said to be that the rest of the Christian prisoners are to be examined, within an hour, by the Emperor himself.”

I had scarcely had a moment to compose myself, when one of the slaves in attendance signified that a person wished to speak with me in the anti-chamber. It was Dromo.—“Sir,” said he, “I have no time for explanation. Silo wishes to see you—I left Boto with him at the Mammertine.”

As we walked from the camp, Sabinus, with his guard, passed without noticing me; and I received some explanations which I must give to you very briefly. Boto, mistrusting his recollection of my instructions, had requested Dromo to assist him in finding his way to the Mammertine; and the Cretan had come to be witness of a scene, which, in spite of his sarcastic disposition, he could not narrate without tokens of sympathy. I mentioned to you that my faithful slave, in coming with me to Rome, had indulged the hope of meeting once more with a brother, who many years before had been carried off from Britain. I smiled when the poor man expressed confidence that he should find out this ere he had been many days in the metropolis of the world. But now, in truth, a fortunate accident had recompensed much ill-regulated search. He had found his brother, and he had found him in the [pg 313]Mammertine. That very brother was Silo, to whose kindness I, and one dearer than myself, had been so deeply indebted. The Cretan, himself a slave and an exile, had partaken in the feelings of the long-lost brothers, and hastened to bring me from the camp, that Boto might be spared the pain of immediately parting from Silo.

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