The Blood of the Martyrs (16 page)

‘Yes, sir,' said Niger happily, aware that this was going to be a story again.

‘You may have heard, I come from the country estate. I was born there. My father was doorkeeper. He was an old man, they wouldn't let him marry when he was young. Didn't want to have a lot of brats about the place. So there was just me. Well, they're often not there for months at a
time, and as I grew up I used to hang around the house and look at pictures and finger the books; then I taught myself to read. I read a good deal: that's been my life really. But reading s a funny business. You don't notice at the time you're reading a book, but afterwards you find you've been shifted a bit. In whatever direction your mind's going. That is, if you've got a mind. Some people haven't. I don't suppose you have, Niger.'

‘No, sir,' said Niger obediently, not sure what all this was about.

‘I taught myself Greek, of course. There is no other language! I read the philosophers. Once I heard there was a travelling lecturer staying overnight at the village; I thought he'd be able to answer my questions, but he couldn't. At first he thought I was a young gentleman and he was very polite, but when he found I was a slave with no money he threw me out. Well then, once when he was up there, Aelius Balbus found me reading and thought he'd have me trained as a secretary. He's a decent old bird, though you wouldn't think it, Niger. So I came to Rome. And there were more books here. Too many books.' He looked round the attic, frowning; you could smell the rather musty leather cases of the old book-rolls.

Niger suggested humbly, ‘There's plenty more in Rome besides books.'

‘Oh yes. There are girls, for instance. And boys. Almost everyone has something for sale. And there are lovely circuses with elephants if that's what you like. Or you can always see a few criminals being killed in the arena if you want a nice change. And there are several kinds of mysteries. Or one can go and raise evil spirits with a witch. Ever go to a witch, Niger?'

‘Christians don't go to witches.'

‘Well, they don't miss much. But, you see, I kept on looking about and poking into holes and corners and temples and lecture-rooms. And I can't lay hands on whatever it is I'm shifting towards. And one of the things I haven't gone into is Christianity. I haven't been able to trace it down. Whenever I think I've got it, it's always turned out to be Judaism, and that's a bore: the angry old man up top like a master
of all masters. There are some good ideas in it, but a lot of bad ones too, and somehow most people take the bad ideas out of any system and leave the good ones to rot. Have you understood a word of what I'm saying, Niger?'

‘No, sir.'

‘I thought not. Now, Niger, I am determined to know about Christianity and you've got to show it to me.'

‘I can't make all that explaining!' said Niger anxiously

‘I don't suppose for a moment you can, but you can take me to a meeting of your Church or whatever it is. I can pretend to be a Christian.'

‘You don't do that,' said Niger, ‘Christians can't lie.'

‘No, but I can! Come on, Niger, take me. I won't breathe a word to anyone.'

‘I can't take you,' Niger repeated, ‘not except you're serious.'

‘Fool, I am serious!' Felicio's voice rose a little. ‘I wouldn't have read through all those intolerable books if human life hadn't seemed to me to be damned serious. And now you, you great blockhead, you can't see!'

Niger scratched his ear. Then he said, ‘First time I was took to the meeting, I didn't understand. Not a thing. Maybe I could take you in for the beginnings. But I got to stand surety for you. If you tell—'

‘Off goes your head. You needn't worry, Niger. When can we go?'

‘By rights we could go next week. But maybe I can't get out.'

‘Is it at night?'

‘Yes, but the porter—'

‘I'll fix the porter. Now tell me, are there any books about Christianity?'

Niger looked blank. ‘Books? No. Why should there be books?'

‘I see. Tell me another thing: are the rest of your Church all like you?'

‘Like me? Black? No.'

‘They may be pea-green for all I care. Are they all stupid? Have they all got slave-souls?'

For a minute Niger didn't answer. Then he said, ‘I wasn't so stupid, long time back. When I was free. I could hunt wild beasts—angry, quick beasts. I could make all kinds of things—different things—I don't have the words for them here. I could dance.'

Felicio put a hand on his arm. ‘And they knocked it all out of you. And knocked the slave-soul in. I know. A nice place, Rome: I understand the Christians are against it … But you were born free. I've been a slave all my life. Trying to get rid of my slave-soul. Perhaps I shall manage to do that some time.'

Felicio found the meeting quite interesting. He had met one or two of Crispus's slaves before, also Euphemia; it was a surprise to see women there at all. He asked Manasses a good many questions, both at the time and later on when he happened to go over to the house with his master, and was there for an hour while the two old men gossiped; they had been fixing up everything about Flavius and Candidus. Felicio would not promise Manasses anything; he would think it over. At present he did not feel like joining the Church. But he would certainly come again.

He was rather angry with Niger for being so upset that evening when Beric came in: the slave-soul again. Nor did he himself rise and shuffle and stare at the young master. That was stupid. The meeting was rather like the first one that he had been at. There was business, the dividing up of the Church funds, where the next meeting was to be, what was happening at the other Churches in Rome, who had come lately from Jerusalem or Ephesus: how Trophimos who was due to go on a mission to Gaul, but had caught some kind of fever in Miletos, was now better and probably on his way: about the book that the doctor was writing for them all: about Paul of Tarsus who was held in the Mamertine on an appeal to the High Court from the Governor of Judaea. Lalage had been to see him—anyone could who didn't mind the risk of being put on to the police black list. He had his own cell, with books and writing material and anything else he needed. Of course, he was a Roman citizen. That made all the difference. She had asked him, as delegate from the Church, two simple questions on what
had actually happened at a certain point in the life of the Christ. Here were the answers. ‘But I wonder if any of us really know,' said Lalage, ‘even Paul.'

‘Did you say that to him, sister?' Manasses asked.

‘More or less. And at first he was snappy, said I'd got my answer. Then he asked me if I thought it mattered. So I answered, in the name of our Church—and I hope you'll say I was right, friends—that what we really wanted him to tell us wasn't so much how things happened, but what was pushing them into happening.'

‘And what did Paul say?'

‘He said, in that sharp way he has, “Now you're talking sense—for once. Counting heads isn't for those who know, and knowing is living, so tell your Church to go on living the Way, and that'll push things into happening all right.” So, you see, you can take it or leave it. I've given you just what he told me, and what Luke is going to write in his book, about what happened when they were in the waste ground by Bethsaida. And I've given you what else he said.'

‘I think we can each take it as we like,' Manasses said. Niger had thought it a lovely story, about the magic fishes and bread. He knew what he was going to believe. Rhodon was glad to know the exact number who had been fed. He wrote it down.

Between business one or another might say something in the nature of a prayer, or as if they were speaking freely about what was in their spirit because they were among friends and it wouldn't be laughed at or used against them. Sophrosyne told them about a dream she'd had, and Phineas capped it with a story about a healing which he had heard from one of the old Nazarenes. Then Manasses said, ‘There are two here who are with us but not of us. Not yet. Have Felicio or Beric any questions?' Beric had been whispering questions at Argas on and off during the whole evening; he sometimes found the slaves' Greek rather hard to follow and there were special Christian words in the prayers which puzzled him. Now Argas told him to ask his questions out loud. But Beric wouldn't. They'd got to get used to him before he'd stand up in the meeting. Felicio asked a couple of questions and was answered. Then Manasses said that the
two must go. As Beric got up, Argas unexpectedly kissed his bare arm. Beric was hoping desperately that they wouldn't all stand for him again. One or two did, but most of them just stared. And I put on my oldest tunic on purpose, thought Beric, but I suppose it does look all wrong.

He and Felicio met in the doorway and went out together. It was now so late that there was no one about and few lights to be seen in the houses. Beric wondered what to do. He rather wanted to walk the short way back by himself and think it all out, even to walk alone a little farther. But perhaps it would be better—more what it was all about—more like the Kingdom—to talk to this other chap. Who might be lonely. Who might be a slave. With a certain effort he said, ‘Which way are you going, friend?'

‘Up past the Esquiline,' said Felicio, and added, ‘You've not got far yourself.'

‘No,' said Beric, a little uncomfortable because this other man knew all about
him
, who he was, and where he lived, while he, on the other hand, had no idea about—what was his name?—Felicio. He added, ‘I'm in no hurry. Would you care—shall we perhaps—walk part of the way back in your direction?'

‘Certainly,' said Felicio, ‘if you don't mind walking back with a slave.'

‘Of course not!' said Beric, realising that his voice was rather over-cordial, but quite unable to get it right. Silly bastard, he thought, why does he need to make such a fuss about being a slave? I'd be walking back with him just as much if he'd been a pick-up! But not in equality? No, not ever when there's something for sale. And there isn't really any love if you pick up a boy or a woman on the streets at night. Or damned little.

‘Was this your first time?' Felicio asked after a minute or two.

‘Yes. I wish they hadn't all fussed about me so!'

‘You can't blame us. It was like seeing—oh, a flying pig! Most of them haven't got steady minds. They're in this through their hearts, not their heads.'

‘And you?'

‘I'm not one of them. I don't know yet if I'm going to be. I'm not sure what their concept of brotherhood really amounts to, in practice. After all, it's something which has been put forward before. And not acted upon much.'

‘I suppose some of them—the Stoics—they talk a lot about poverty.'

‘But what they'd all love would be a philosopher-king ruling everyone with an iron rod. One of themselves!'

‘No, Felicio, they'd be the Council behind him—' Beric was remembering all the talk he'd been hearing at Crispus's house for the last five years. ‘And he'd be a kind of dressed-up dummy to impress the masses. All for their own good, of course!'

‘Even Plato saw that didn't work, before he died. When his precious philosopher-king at Syracuse started going the way of all kings. But the Romans are still hoping it's going to work with the next Emperor—or the next but one.'

‘I suppose,' said Beric a little doubtfully, ‘that there was more real brotherhood in the Garden than anywhere else.'

‘Yes. Epicurus had it himself. And some of his followers. But look what Rome's made of it! Their idea of happiness: eating and drinking and having women!'

‘My old tutor,' said Beric, suddenly thinking of him again, ‘was always supposed to be a Stoic. But he had a good many Epicurean ideas. He was a Greek, of course. I liked him.'

‘You had a proper Roman education, had you?'

‘Yes. Look here, Felicio, how do you know about me? Because you obviously do.'

They were standing at a corner now. There was a full moon, and they could see one another very well. And through the blue moonlight there was a curious reddish glow in the sky, to their right. Felicio asked, ‘Do you mind?'

‘I don't think so. Only, I would like to know—'

‘Whose slave I am. Well, I was there this morning at the betrothal, helping with the documents. I saw you. I belong to Lady Flavia's future father-in-law.'

‘You saw me, did you?'

‘Yes.' Felicio hesitated. ‘There was one moment when you looked so unhappy that—I couldn't help supposing—
for whatever reasons—you didn't like Aelius Candidus any more than I do.' Beric didn't answer. He put his arm up against the wall and leant his forehead against it. He wondered how many more slaves knew what was happening to him! Would it have been any help or pleasure to box the ears of this one? Not actually, he decided. Felicio went on, impersonally, ‘I don't suppose there is anyone in that Church who has not been hurt. Quite badly hurt. I suppose you need some kind of knock before you're prepared to take it. Before, as they'd say, you were reborn. Or become adult. I'm not quite sure which. They tend to use these words that come from the heart rather than the head. Perhaps it's because I haven't had a knock that, though I like them, I'm probably not going to come in.'

Beric had been given time to recover, to get away from himself; he said, ‘I don't like thinking that all those slaves of ours have been hurt. I know about Argas. Funny, the thing that seems to have hurt him most was really quite small—having a book taken away from him. I suppose—I don't begin to know what things are like for them.'

‘You may yet,' said Felicio, ‘and that will be interesting. Of course, it happened to a good many Greeks. Epicurus himself, for instance, lost everything in a war between states. And Plato was sold as a slave. But naturally his friends bought him back. And I very much doubt if he had to clean the boots when he was a slave! But it doesn't happen to Romans. They're rather too secure. Except for their Great Big Divine Insecurity in the Palace. Only that's different. But perhaps your own slaves will be able to tell you what's been done to them, so that you'll see. I don't suppose they've spoken to you yet as equals.'