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.