Chapter 8 THE SYMBOL OF THE LIZARD.

The games in the amphitheatre on this, the first day of November attracted an unusual number of persons.

The emperor was there, with all his court, and the Vestals honored the games with their presence. Alyrus sat in a prominent place, with Sahira, former slave of Aurelius Lucanus and maid to Claudia, beside him. The dark-faced girl attracted much attention, so great was her beauty. Freed by special decree of Caesar, at the request of Lycidon, the priest, she had, by her father's desire been dressed like a fashionable girl of the period.

"Dost see them coming?" asked Alyrus, eagerly. "Thine eyes are younger than mine. Dost see them yet?"

"No, father. It is only the gladiators. Ah! that Lycias is a king among men! how strong! how noble!"

A shade passed over the face of Alyrus the Moor.

"Yes. A fine youth, yet-I wish that I had not lost that bronze lizard, Sahira. It bodes misfortune. Rome is not a safe place for us, in spite of the favor of Lycidon. We must go as soon as the games are over. Could it be possible that Lycias-"

"Look, father, see Lycias, the conqueror. The emperor smiles upon him; a lady has thrown him a jewel. He bows. He is gone. How proud he must be!"

"And now, they will come! See, yonder, Sahira, that group of white-robed men and women. Ha! hear the wild beasts, how they growl in their cages, pawing the bars, pleading to be let loose."

Alyrus, wild with gratified hatred, his face as evil as that of a demon, leaned far over that he might lose nothing of the pitiful drama about to be enacted in the arena.

The Christians came forward slowly, the women clinging together in their physical weakness, though their souls were strong in the strength of their faith.

There was Octavia, leading Hermione and Virgilia. The widow's face was bright with a great light. There was Martius almost blinded by the contrast between the terrible darkness of the dungeon beneath Jupiter's temple, where he had spent four days and nights of misery, frantic when he thought of Virgilia and what her fate might be. He and Alexis had only a half hour before been brought through the underground passage-way to the cells where the Christians were waiting. He and Virgilia met here, on the sanded arena, where thousands of persons were gazing at them. Martius stepped to his sister's side, and put his arm around her. He stretched out his hand to clasp that of Hermione.

"We shall meet again, yonder," he whispered, glancing upward.

Now, just as they were being pushed into the arena, a strange thing had happened. A tall man, whom Martius had not recognized as Lycias, the gladiator, approached him and said: "In the arena, I will be near you, standing by one of the gates. If you can be calm enough in the moment of excitement, note where I am. When I give the signal, take your sister in your arms and follow me."

He had said the same to Marcus, telling him to assist Octavia and

Hermione and bear them forth.

"Fear not," the stranger had said. "If your God has power, he will save you all out of the lion's mouth."

Opening from the arena were several iron gates. Some of these served as entrances to the prisons or cells, where the Christians had been kept until the moment when they were commanded to come forth and perform their part in amusing the wicked emperor and his impious people. Others, four in number, were the entrances to passageways leading to the open air. There were used by the gladiators and by the employees whose duty it was to arrange the "scenery."

Each gate was guarded, in the arena and at the outer exit, by a soldier, well armed.

It was by one of these open gates that Martius and Marcus obeying the words of the gladiator, eager to seize any chance of escape, kept the women.

The shouts of the multitude arose. "The Christians! The Christians! To the lions!"

It was then that Alyrus shrank back and a deadly fear seized him. What had he done? What had he done? He remembered past kindnesses. He remembered how Sahira had been saved from a life of sorrow and shame by Aurelius Lucanus. How had he repaid him? By treachery and evil. For the first time in his life, Alyrus was conscious of sin. The Christian's God! Who was He? Could he avenge? A horrible coldness enveloped him. He could not move. Then he knew nothing more.

But Sahira, not noticing that her father was ill, was looking down at the white group, now kneeling on the ground, while the white-haired elder prayed, with arms up-raised.

There was another shout.

Martius who had never felt cooler in his life, saw Lycias and touched

Marcus on the arm.

"Come," he said. "We are not far from the entrance. Quick!"

Martius seized Virgilia in his arms; Marcus led his mother and

Hermione.

It was but a step, a moment and they were by the side of Lycias. Hermione was fainting. The gladiator lifted her as easily as if she were a child.

"Follow me," said Lycias, striding before them.

Dazed, scarcely knowing where they were or what they were doing, the women, clinging to the men; walked along the narrow way. In the circus, there were more shouts and cries. Hermione trembled in the strong arms of Lycias. He soothed her gently.

"Pray to your God," he said, "that He may bring us safely through."

"Who are you?"

"I am Lycias, a friend of Christians, and I, too would learn of the faith."

One great danger lay before them. It was the guard at the outer doorway, which opened on the street. He opposed their exit.

"No one passes here," he said.

"No one except me and my friends," responded the gladiator, boldly.

"Dare you say to Lycias that he may not pass?"

The soldier's face relaxed, but still he stood in the path.

"To-day, I have specially strict orders lest some of the Christians escape. For my part, I would willingly let some of those poor creatures flee, but I value my head."

"Perhaps thou wilt not gainsay me when thou seest my pass."

Lycias held up the bronze lizard. Really, the big gladiator himself doubted the power of this symbol. He began to fear that they would all be forced back into the arena, which was sure death, not only for those whom he wished to save, but for himself, also. He would receive no mercy, even though he had been the idol of the people but an hour before and the air had rung with his praises. It would count him little, if he were caught helping the victims to escape.

The soldier looked at him with staring eyes.

"The symbol of the chief-priest," he whispered. "In the name of

Jupiter, go by in peace, and may his wrath not fall upon me and mine."

A few paces more, and the light of air of the blessed day bathed them in warmth and gave them courage.

The gladiator set Hermione on her feet and wiped his dripping forehead.

"Barely escaped," he muttered.

No one was in this part of the street by the amphitheatre. All the interest was in the interior. So great had been the number of Christians that Octavia and the others in this little group had not been missed.

Where they were going, they knew not; but that, for the moment, they were safe, they all thankfully realized and that they owed it to this big stranger with the honest face.

"Let us, for one moment, thank God for our deliverance," said Octavia.

Not daring to kneel, they turned their faces toward Heaven while

Octavia breathed forth a fervent prayer.

"We must hurry," said Lycias, leading the way to the Forum, to-day deserted for the greater amusements of the games, in which the Christians were the chief attraction.

It was a long, hard walk to the marble wharf where the ship lay on which Alyrus and his daughter were soon to set sail, as Lycias well knew. His great fear was lest the Moor might have decided to go earlier and not wait for the conclusion of the games. Suppose they arrived at the wharf and found the ship gone? What should they do?

Lycias' brain studied this problem. All these people were homeless, except the shepherd. Ah! that was it! If the ship had sailed, he would take these delicately nurtured women to the cave on the Campagna.

It grew necessary for the men to help the women, who were very weary and weak from excitement; although Lycias did not wish to call any more attention to them than was necessary, for fear that the ladies, especially Octavia, who was well known, might be recognized. All the Romans had not gone to the Circus, some were sitting in the eating-places, and women were knitting in the doorways. Fortunately, it was getting toward evening, but that would be a signal for the thousands to leave the amphitheatre and scatter to their homes.

There was need for haste.

They approached the shores of the Tiber, turned into gold by the sunlight from the setting sun. The masts were visible now.

Lycias gave a sigh of satisfaction as he saw, sitting on a grassy bank a man and a woman, who was heavily veiled. Standing beside them was a slender girl. It was Lidia, the daughter of the shepherd, who sprang forward and put her arms around her father's neck, while great tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks.

"At last! at last! thou art come. Thanks be to our God."

It had not been a difficult matter for the little scullery-maid to persuade the lawyer to venture upon a scheme as bold as it was doubtful in its outcome. Aurelius Lucanus was a broken man. He had lost his children. He had not known how dear they were to him until they disappeared. What mattered it if they were followers of Christians, members of a despised sect? They were his own, and he loved them. His business was ruined, his home deserted, the emperor no longer looked on him with favor. All was gone.

In the room near by, Claudia lay weeping. She, too, was broken-hearted. Her daughter, her ambitions, all those things which formed her life had vanished as suddenly as the dew dries upon the green grass in midsummer.

The lawyer was sitting in the garden. Bright yellow and scarlet dahlias bloomed around him; plumy lavender and rose colored asters nodded cheerfully in the chill breeze of this first of November. The water in the fountain rippled as musically as in those happy days, now gone.

That morning early, Aurelius had gone again to the Senator Adrian Soderus, to whom Virgilia had so cruelly been betrothed. It was a sign that no longer was the lawyer held in high esteem, when he was kept waiting in the outer chamber, and a message was brought him by a young slave that the Senator could no longer receive him. He would have no dealings with the parents of Christians.

Then he, too, knew their disgrace. It must have been noised-abroad in the city. Aurelius hurried home and sitting down where Claudia had rested, looking so beautiful, on her return from the amphitheatre on the Spring day which seemed so long ago, he buried his face in his hands.

An awful fear haunted him. To-day had been fixed for the games. Could it be possible that Virgilia, so fair, so delicate, shielded all her life from the rough and hard things, protected and loved, was among those Christians whom Caesar had, in his cruelty, doomed to death?

And Martius, where was he?

He felt a light touch on his shoulder and looked up with dull eyes, clouded with misery and loneliness, into the dark, sallow face of the kitchen-maid, whom he had never noticed before until he saw her tenderly ministering to his wife.

In a few concise sentences, she told him all.

Virgilia and Martius were to be sacrificed, with hundreds of other Christians that afternoon. It was known that Octavia, and her children were also condemned. Lycias, the gladiator, would try to save them. Perhaps he could succeed; there was a little hope. In any case, he would try. Aurelius and Claudia, with herself, would go to a quiet place near the marble quarry, and wait for them. If they did not come, all was lost, and there remained nothing but to return to this house. If they came, there was a chance of escape for them all. She told him of the ship belonging to Alyrus, his porter, now a freedman. It was he who had wrought the mischief. If possible-God only knew!-they would all sail away together. Whither, who could tell? Away from Rome, away from all this trouble and sorrow.

Lidia possessed a lovely voice, thrilling sweet. As she talked, the lawyer's brain cleared. He was more himself than he had been since the children had disappeared. Now, he knew the worst. Sometimes certainty, even though bad, is better than the agony of suspense. There was a chance, and if they escaped-a thought came to him.

"Thou wilt dress thy Lady."

Lidia nodded.

"And gather together the jewels. Bring the diadem sent by the emperor to Virgilia and the necklace, the gift of Adrian."

Even in his anguish of soul, the lawyer smiled, grimly. When the Senator sent to reclaim his valuable gift, he would not find it. At least, he would have contributed that much to Virgilia's future happiness. His wealth was so great that he would not miss the game.

"I will gather together all the jewels, my master, also those of the Lady Claudia, and will hide them in my bosom. No one will imagine that the kitchen-maid carries such treasures."

"A quick-witted girl," muttered Aurelius, "and now for my part. If the gods please, they will escape, and we shall be happy again. If not-then we will never return to this house."

It took him until noon to examine the papers in his strong-box. Three of the documents he placed in his toga. The others, he burned.

It was a long and difficult matter to bring the Lady Claudia, in her weakness, to the place agreed upon. Here, they waited, while the sun, burning hot in Rome even in October, beat upon them pitilessly, for there was no shade here.

The whole story had not been told Claudia, who was saved that suffering. She knew, only, that they were to set sail in a ship and leave this city where she had been so happy. She was utterly apathetic, caring nothing where they went.

Losing hope, as time passed, Aurelius grew more and more silent. Even Lidia began to fear that the worst had happened. The sun sank and the vessels were shrouded in shadow. No sound was heard save the monotonous singing of a sailor, or the creaking of a sail.

Then around the corner came the forlorn little group, and Lidia threw herself in her father's arms, while her eyes sought Lycias, who smiled at her.

The rest was easy. The bronze lizard worked like magic. No one inquired where was the dark man with the gold rings in his ears. The vessel had been chartered and paid for by the priest of Jupiter. The orders were to sail, when the symbol was shown them. As the tide was high and the wind fresh, the sails were raised and just as the people were swarming out of the Circus, just when the Emperor in his golden chair, was being carried to his marble palace, the fugitives, scarcely knowing where they were and not caring whither they should go, sat on the deck, breathed in the cool air of life, watched the stars come out, one by one, and thanked God for delivering them out of the mouth of the lion.

Day after day they sailed over a blue sea, where the waves danced and broke into froth, which in its turn, dissolved into a million jewel-points of colors as brilliant as those flashed by the diamonds in Virgilia's diadem, the gift of the emperor.

Among the papers brought away by the lawyer was the deed of a small villa on the Island of Cyprus. It had belonged to his father and a revenue was received each year from the steward who cultivated the vineyard.

To Cyprus, the vessel went, landing there a fortnight later, for the winds had been favorable, and they had made a quick voyage.

On the broad terraces, commanding a view of the sea, with passing vessels, Claudia lay on a couch, daily gaining strength. She held Virgilia's hand as if she could never let it go, while the young girl told her of Jesus and His love, and read to her the precious letter of Paul, the Apostle, a copy of which Martius had made in the days of his exile.

Here, they heard of the martyrdom of the Apostle, and his burial in the vineyard of Lucia, the Roman matron. He had "finished his course" and "kept the faith," and had gone to receive his "crown of righteousness."

As the days passed, peace and happiness came to them all. The gladiator, forgetting his prowess in the arena, worked diligently in the vineyard, while Lucius guarded the flocks of sheep, grazing beneath the light-green olive-trees. And Lidia cooked for them in a small stone cottage, singing as she worked.

Martius and Marcus, grown to be men, worked also, and when the labors of the day were over, sat on the terrace in the moonlight, while Hermione and Virgilia talked with them, and Claudia and Octavia smiled at their happiness.

One thing, they did not know; that Alyrus, the Moor, justly punished for his misdeeds, never spoke again after the games in the Circus. He died soon afterward. Sahira, robbed of her freedom by the jealousy of a woman high in favor in the imperial court, who envied her beauty and the favor of the emperor, sank again into slavery, and as the years passed, became a drudge in the palace.

When the sun crept lower to the waves of the sea, and as the darkness shrouded all nature, young and old knelt on the terrace and prayed that God would keep them safe.

And Aurelius, the lawyer, with Claudia, his wife, knelt also, for there were no statues of the gods in this home set among the trailing festoons of the vineyard on the Island of Cyprus.

[FINIS.]