Meanwhile the arrested Christians on the parade ground had had time to organize themselves and gather around their leaders, who after consulting each other decided to forget their internal differences and put their trust in Christ alone. He would be sure to send his spirit to defend them. They were all frightened by the cries of pain which could be heard coming from the dungeons and they consoled themselves in their anxiety with prayers and songs of hope.
Among them were several people who knew the laws and went from man to man and woman to woman, comforting them by telling them of the Imperial precedent in Paul’s case. The most important thing now was that no one, even if threatened with the worst forms of torture, should confess to being guilty of fire-raising. Such a false confession could be devastating to all Christians. Persecution and suffering for the sake of the name of Christ had been foretold. They could acknowledge Christ, but nothing else.
When I arrived at the Praetorium, I was astounded by the number of people who had been arrested. At first I was reassured, for not even a madman could believe that all these people had committed arson. I met Tigellinus at an appropriate moment, for he was temporarily completely confused and had no idea what to do. In fact he rushed up to me and shouted at me that I had given Nero an inaccurate account of the Christians, for hardly any of them seemed to be criminals.
I denied this emphatically and told him I had never said a single word to Nero about the Christians.
“I know nothing but good of them,” I said. “They are quite harmless and at their worst squabble amongst themselves on questions of faith, but they never have anything to do with State matters or even the people’s entertainments. They don’t even go to the theater. It’s madness to accuse such people of the burning of Rome.”
Tigellinus gave me a frightening grin, unrolled one of his lists and read out my own name.
“You must know all about it,” he said scornfully, “as you’ve been denounced as being a Christian. Your wife too, and all your household, but no names mentioned.”
I felt as if a heavy cloak of lead had fallen over me and I could not speak. But Tigellinus burst out laughing and hit me with the scroll.
“You don’t think I take such reports seriously, do you?” he said. “I know you and your reputation. And even if I should suspect you, I could never suspect Sabina. Whoever reported you didn’t even know you’d divorced her. No, they’re hardened criminals who out of sheer ill-will wish to demonstrate that noble circles in Rome have also been drawn into their superstition.
“But the conspiracy seems to be surprisingly large after all,” he went on. “What puzzles me most is that they all voluntarily and gladly admit that they worship Christ as their god. I can only imagine that they’ve been bewitched. But I must put an end to such witchcraft. When they see that the guilty are punished, I’m sure they’ll be frightened and quickly denounce this madness of theirs.”
“Perhaps you’d be wise,” I said carefully, “to destroy your lists. What do you mean by the guilty?”
“You’re probably right,” said Tigellinus. “Believe it or not, there are both Consuls and senators reported as alleged Christians. It would be better to keep such insults secret, otherwise our men of standing will be shamed in the eyes of the people. I don’t think I’ll even say anything to Nero about such insane things.”
He looked at me penetratingly, with a cheerful glint in his ruthless eyes. I guessed he would keep the lists and use them for blackmailing people, for of course every important man in Rome would be prepared to pay anything to prevent that kind of stain on him. Again I asked him what he had meant by the guilty.
“I’ve more than enough confessions,” he boasted.
When I refused to believe it, he took me down into the cellars and showed me, one after another, his whimpering and half-dead victims.
“Of course, I’ve only had branded criminals and deserting slaves tortured, as well as one or two others I thought were holding something back,” he explained. “A thorough beating was enough for most of them, but as you see, we’ve had to use red-hot irons and iron claws in some cases. They’re pretty tough, these Christians. Some of them died without confessing anything, but just shouted for help from Christ. Some confessed as soon as they saw the instruments.”
“What did they confess?” I asked.
“That they had set fire to Rome on orders from Christ, of course,” said Tigellinus insolently, looking straight at me. But when he saw my disapproval, he added: “Or whatever you like. One or two vaguely admitted to setting fire to houses together with the soldiers. I haven’t in fact discovered anything more criminal or conspiratorial than that. But several men who otherwise look quite worthy have voluntarily admitted that they thought that their god had punished Rome with the fire because of the city’s sins. Isn’t that enough? And others have told me that they had expected to see their god come down from the sky as the fires were burning, to judge all those who do not acknowledge Christ. That sort of thing sounds like a secret conspiracy against the State. So the Christians must be punished for their superstition, no matter whether they set the fire going with their own hands or whether they had unknowingly agreed to the whole cruel plan.”
I pointed to a young girl who lay bound with leather straps on a bloodstained stone bench. Her mouth was bleeding and her breasts and limbs were so torn by the iron claws that she was clearly dying from loss of blood.
“What has that innocent girl confessed to?” I asked.
Tigellinus rubbed the palms of his hands together and avoided my eyes.
“Try to understand me a little,” he said. “All morning I’ve had to work with dreadful coppersmiths. I must get at least a little pleasure out of all this. But I was really curious to know what she had to confess as well. Well, I got nothing out of her except that some great man or other would soon appear and judge me and throw me into the fire as a punishment for my evil doings. A vengeful girl. They all seem to talk about fire for that matter, as if they were especially attracted to it. There are people who find pleasure in watching fires. Otherwise Nero would hardly have chosen just that night to sing from the Maecenas tower.”
I pretended to look more closely at the girl, although it made me feel sick to do so.
“Tigellinus,” I said deliberately, “this girl looks like a Jewess.”
Tigellinus was appalled and gripped my arm.
“Don’t tell Poppaea, whatever you do,” he said. “How in all the names of the underworld could I tell a Jewish girl from an ordinary one? They’ve no signs of recognition on their bodies as the men have. But she was definitely a Christian. She wouldn’t denounce her madness, although I promised to let her go alive if she abandoned such superstitions. She must have been bewitched.”
Fortunately, after this dreadful incident Tigellinus decided to stop torturing his victims and had them brought back to life again so that they could go through with the punishment the Emperor meted out to them for arson. We went back to his own private interrogation room, where he was told that Senator Pudens Publicola, an old man of the Valerian family, had arrived together with an elderly Jew and was demanding loudly to speak to Tigellinus.
Tigellinus, unpleasantly surprised, scratched his head and looked helplessly at me.
“Pudens is a mild and silly old man,” he said. “What can he be angry with me about? Perhaps I’ve gone and arrested one of his clients by mistake. Stay here and help me, as you know about the Jews.”
Senator Pudens came in with his white old head trembling with rage. To my surprise, it was Cephas who was with him, his worn shepherd’s stave in his hand and his bearded face red with agitation. The third was a youth called Cletus, pale with fear, whom I had seen once before acting as interpreter for Cephas.