iple from Judaea and his mother, the two slaves and
the praefect of Rome. The Christians sat beside the pagans, the mighty
lord beside his slave, and they broke bread and drank wine, all in
memory of Him.

CHAPTER XII

"Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy
coming."--ISAIAH XIV. 9.

I pray you follow me now to an inner chamber in the palace of the mighty
Caesar. A square room with walls of marble inlaid with precious stones,
and with hangings of crimson silk to exclude the searching light of day.
The air heavy with the fumes of burning incense that wound in spiral
curves upwards to the domed roof, and escaped--ethereal and
elusive--through the tiny openings practised therein, the seats of
gilded wood with downy cushions that seemed to melt at a touch, and in a
recess a monumental bed of solid and priceless citrus, carved by the
hand of a Greek sculptor, with curtains of purple silk wrought all over
with stars.

In vases of delicate murra huge bunches of blood-red roses hung their
drooping heads, and beneath the feet carpets of heavy silk hid the
exquisite beauty of mosaics of lapis-lazuli and chrysoprase.

And in the midst of all this stately gorgeousness a creature--hardly
human--raging round like a thwarted beast.

Caius Julius Caesar Caligula was in one of his maddest moods; his hollow
eyes glowed with unnatural fire, his scanty, light-coloured hair stood
up around his head like the bristly mane of a hyena. Up and down the
room he stamped with heavy feet; his robe, weighted with precious
stones, striking out around him as he trod the smooth surface of silken
carpets or the slippery mosaic of the floor. His thin arms and ankles
were covered with numerous bracelets and on his feet were shoes studded
with diamonds.

At first sight it would indeed have been difficult to say if it was a
man or a woman who was thus pacing this magnificent cage, with wild
gestures of the arms and hoarse cries that seemed to proceed from no
human throat. The face, white and puffy, might have been of either sex,
and the flowing garment and wealth of jewellery suggested a woman rather
than a man.

The Caesar was crazy with rage, and all round the room slaves and
attendants cowered, terrified. In his hand he had a short whip with five
thongs of solid, knotted leather, at the end of each of which was an
iron hook. From these five hooks a few drops of blood were trickling
down his white silk tunic. At interval