CENTURION (scandalised) Silence! Have some sense of your situation. Is this the way for martyrs to behave? (To Spintho, who is quaking and loitering) I know what YOU"LL be at that dinner. You"ll be the emetic. (He shoves him rudely along).
SPINTHO. It"s too dreadful: I"m not fit to die.
CENTURION. Fitter than you are to live, you swine.
They pa.s.s from the square westward. The oxen, drawing a waggon with a great wooden cage and the lion in it, arrive through the central arch.
ACT II
Behind the Emperor"s box at the Coliseum, where the performers a.s.semble before entering the arena. In the middle a wide pa.s.sage leading to the arena descends from the floor level under the imperial box. On both sides of this pa.s.sage steps ascend to a landing at the back entrance to the box. The landing forms a bridge across the pa.s.sage. At the entrance to the pa.s.sage are two bronze mirrors, one on each side.
On the west side of this pa.s.sage, on the right hand of any one coming from the box and standing on the bridge, the martyrs are sitting on the steps. Lavinia is seated half-way up, thoughtful, trying to look death in the face. On her left Androcles consoles himself by nursing a cat. Ferrovius stands behind them, his eyes blazing, his figure stiff with intense resolution. At the foot of the steps crouches Spintho, with his head clutched in his hands, full of horror at the approach of martyrdom.
On the east side of the pa.s.sage the gladiators are standing and sitting at ease, waiting, like the Christians, for their turn in the arena. One (Retiarius) is a nearly naked man with a net and a trident. Another (Secutor) is in armor with a sword. He carries a helmet with a barred visor. The editor of the gladiators sits on a chair a little apart from them.
The Call Boy enters from the pa.s.sage.
THE CALL Boy. Number six. Retiarius versus Secutor.
The gladiator with the net picks it up. The gladiator with the helmet puts it on; and the two go into the arena, the net thrower taking out a little brush and arranging his hair as he goes, the other tightening his straps and shaking his shoulders loose. Both look at themselves in the mirrors before they enter the pa.s.sage.
LAVINIA. Will they really kill one another?
SPINTHO. Yes, if the people turn down their thumbs.
THE EDITOR. You know nothing about it. The people indeed! Do you suppose we would kill a man worth perhaps fifty talents to please the riffraff? I should like to catch any of my men at it.
SPINTHO. I thought--
THE EDITOR (contemptuously) You thought! Who cares what you think? YOU"LL be killed all right enough.
SPINTHO (groans and again hides his face)!!! Then is n.o.body ever killed except us poor--
LAVINIA. Christians?
THE EDITOR. If the vestal virgins turn down their thumbs, that"s another matter. They"re ladies of rank.
LAVINIA. Does the Emperor ever interfere?
THE EDITOR. Oh, yes: he turns his thumbs up fast enough if the vestal virgins want to have one of his pet fighting men killed.
ANDROCLES. But don"t they ever just only pretend to kill one another? Why shouldn"t you pretend to die, and get dragged out as if you were dead; and then get up and go home, like an actor?
THE EDITOR. See here: you want to know too much. There will be no pretending about the new lion: let that be enough for you. He"s hungry.
SPINTHO (groaning with horror) Oh, Lord! Can"t you stop talking about it? Isn"t it bad enough for us without that?
ANDROCLES. I"m glad he"s hungry. Not that I want him to suffer, poor chap! but then he"ll enjoy eating me so much more. There"s a cheerful side to everything.
THE EDITOR (rising and striding over to Androcles) Here: don"t you be obstinate. Come with me and drop the pinch of incense on the altar. That"s all you need do to be let off.
ANDROCLES. No: thank you very much indeed; but I really mustn"t.
THE EDITOR. What! Not to save your life?
ANDROCLES. I"d rather not. I couldn"t sacrifice to Diana: she"s a huntress, you know, and kills things.
THE EDITOR. That don"t matter. You can choose your own altar.
Sacrifice to Jupiter: he likes animals: he turns himself into an animal when he goes off duty.
ANDROCLES. No: it"s very kind of you; but I feel I can"t save myself that way.
THE EDITOR. But I don"t ask you to do it to save yourself: I ask you to do it to oblige me personally.
ANDROCLES (scrambling up in the greatest agitation) Oh, please don"t say that. That is dreadful. You mean so kindly by me that it seems quite horrible to disoblige you. If you could arrange for me to sacrifice when there"s n.o.body looking, I shouldn"t mind. But I must go into the arena with the rest. My honor, you know.
THE EDITOR. Honor! The honor of a tailor?
ANDROCLES (apologetically) Well, perhaps honor is too strong an expression. Still, you know, I couldn"t allow the tailors to get a bad name through me.
THE EDITOR. How much will you remember of all that when you smell the beast"s breath and see his jaws opening to tear out your throat?
SPINTHO (rising with a yell of terror) I can"t bear it. Where"s the altar? I"ll sacrifice.
FERROVIUS. Dog of an apostate. Iscariot!
SPINTHO. I"ll repent afterwards. I fully mean to die in the arena I"ll die a martyr and go to heaven; but not this time, not now, not until my nerves are better. Besides, I"m too young: I want to have just one more good time. (The gladiators laugh at him). Oh, will no one tell me where the altar is? (He dashes into the pa.s.sage and vanishes).
ANDROCLES (to the Editor, pointing after Spintho) Brother: I can"t do that, not even to oblige you. Don"t ask me.
THE EDITOR. Well, if you"re determined to die, I can"t help you.
But I wouldn"t be put off by a swine like that.
FERROVIUS. Peace, peace: tempt him not. Get thee behind him, Satan.
THE EDITOR (flushing with rage) For two pins I"d take a turn in the arena myself to-day, and pay you out for daring to talk to me like that.
Ferrovius springs forward.
LAVINIA (rising quickly and interposing) Brother, brother: you forget.
FERROVIUS (curbing himself by a mighty effort) Oh, my temper, my wicked temper! (To the Editor, as Lavinia sits down again, rea.s.sured). Forgive me, brother. My heart was full of wrath: I should have been thinking of your dear precious soul.
THE EDITOR. Yah! (He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously, and goes back to his seat).
FERROVIUS (continuing) And I forgot it all: I thought of nothing but offering to fight you with one hand tied behind me.