The Martyr of the Catacombs Part 4

The boy thought for a moment, and at length signified his a.s.sent.

Marcellus took his hand and followed his lead. The boy turned away to the right of the Appian Way, when he walked a short distance. Here he came to an uninhabited house. He entered, and went down into the cellar.

There was a door which apparently opened into a closet. The boy pointed to this, and stopped.

"I wish to go down," said Marcellus, firmly.

"You would not dare to go down alone surely, would you?"

"The Christians say that they do not commit murder. Why then should I fear? Lead on."

"I have no torches."

"But I have some. I came prepared. Go on."

"I cannot."

"Do you refuse?"

"I must refuse," said the boy. "My friends and my relatives are below.

Sooner than lead you to them I would die a hundred deaths."

"You are bold. You do not know what death is."

"Do I not? What Christian can fear death? I have seen many of my friends die in agony, and I have helped bury them. I will not lead you there.

Take me away to prison."

The boy turned away.

"But if I take you away what will your friends think? Have you a mother?"

The boy bowed his head and burst into a pa.s.sion of tears. The mention of that dear name had overcome him.

"I see that you have, and that you love her. Lead me down, and you shall join her again."

"I will never betray them. I will die first. Do with me as you wish."

"If I had any evil intentions," said Marcellus, "do you think I would go down unaccompanied?"

"What can a soldier, and a Pretorian, want with the persecuted Christians, if not to destroy them?"

"Boy, I have no evil intentions. If you guide me down below I swear I will not use my knowledge against your friends. When I am below I will be a prisoner, and they can do with me what they like."

"Do you swear that you will not betray them?"

"I do, by the life of Caesar and the immortal G.o.ds," said Marcellus, solemnly.

"Come along, then," said the boy. "We do not need torches. Follow me carefully."

And the lad entered the narrow opening.

CHAPTER IV.

THE CATACOMBS

"No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades."

They went on in utter darkness, until at length the pa.s.sage widened and they came to steps which led below. Marcellus held the boy's dress and followed him.

It was certainly a situation that might provoke alarm. He was voluntarily placing himself in the power of men whom his cla.s.s had driven from the upper air into these drear abodes. To them he could only be known as a persecutor. Yet such was the impression which he had formed of their gentleness and meekness that he had no fear of harm. It was in the power of this boy to lead him to death in the thick darkness of these impenetrable labyrinths, but even of this he did not think. It was a desire to know more of these Christians, to get at their secret, that led him on, and as he had sworn, so had he resolved that this visit should not be made use of to their betrayal or injury.

After descending for some time the steps ended, and they walked along the level ground. Soon they turned and entered a small vaulted chamber which was lighted from the faint glow of a furnace. The boy had walked on with the unhesitating step of one perfectly familiar with the way.

Arriving at the chamber, he lighted a torch which lay on the floor and resumed his journey.

There is something in the air of a burial place which is unlike that of any other place. It is not altogether the closeness, or the damp, or the sickening smell of earth, but a certain subtle influence which unites with them and intensifies them. The spell of the dead is there, and it rests alike on mind and body. Such was the air of the catacombs. Cold and damp, it struck upon the visitor like the chill atmosphere from the realms of death. The living felt the mysterious power of the dead.

The boy Pollio went on before and Marcellus followed after. The torch but faintly illumined the intense darkness. No beam of day, no ray however weak, could ever enter here to relieve the thickness of the oppressive gloom. It was literally darkness that might be felt. The torchlight shone out but a few paces and then died in the darkness.

The path went winding on with innumerable turnings. Suddenly Pollio stopped and pointed downward. Peering through the gloom, Marcellus saw an opening in the path which led further down. It was a pit to which no bottom appeared.

"Where does this lead to?"

"Below."

"Are there more pa.s.sages below?"

"O yes. As many as there are here, and still below that again. I have been in three different stories of these paths, and some of the old fossors say that in certain places they go down to a very great depth."

The pa.s.sage wound along till all idea of locality was utterly lost.

Marcellus could not tell whether he was within a few paces of the entrance or many furlongs off. His bewildered thoughts soon began to turn to other things. The first impressions of gloom departed he looked more particularly upon what he pa.s.sed, and regarded more closely the many wonders of this strange place. All along the walls were tablets which appeared to cover long and narrow excavations. These cellular niches were ranged on both sides so closely that but little s.p.a.ce was left between. The inscriptions that were upon the tablets showed that they were Christian tombs. He had not time to stop and read, but he noticed the frequent recurrence of the same expression, such as,

HONORIA--SHE SLEEPS IN PEACE.

FAUSTA--IN PEACE.

On nearly every tablet he saw the same sweet and gentle word. "PEACE,"

thought Marcellus; "what wonderful people are these Christians, who even amid such scenes as these can cherish their lofty contempt of death!"

His eyes grew more and more accustomed to the gloom as he walked along.

Now the pa.s.sage way grew narrower; the roof drooped, the sides approached; they had to stoop and go along more slowly. The walls were rough and rudely cut as the workmen left them when they drew along here their last load of sand for the edifices above. Subterranean damps and fungous growths overspread them in places, deepening their somber color and filling the air with thick moisture, while the smoke of the torches made the atmosphere still more oppressive.

They pa.s.sed hundreds of side pa.s.sages and scores of places where many paths met, all branching off in different directions. These innumerable paths showed Marcellus how hopelessly he was now cut off from the world above. This boy held his life in his hands.

"Do any ever lose their way?"

"Often."

"What becomes of them?"