But with your enemies, perhaps they don’t accept it. But you’ve got to do it all the same.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s just part of how we all want to be. We call it the Way of Life. And if you forgive a person you stop being in his power; he can’t really hurt you any longer. And maybe you get to see why he’s doing it and then you can most likely stop him.’
‘But look here, Argas, if you forgive people you’ve got to forgive the Emperor and Rome and—and all the masters—and then you won’t want to destroy them any longer.’
‘I can forgive my own master,’ said Argas, frowning, thinking it out, ‘for what he does to me as a man, but forgiveness is between people, so I can’t forgive all the masters because I don’t know them. Together, they’re a thing, and I hate them and I want to destroy them. And we shall. And the rule of Rome is a thing, so I don’t forgive it. I don’t forgive what they did to the people in Epidauros and the people in Athens. And if you become a Christian, you will not be able to forgive the Roman rule that you have been part of yourself.’
‘I think I see,’ said Beric. ‘Did your Jesus forgive his enemies?’
‘He forgave the men who were killing him. But before that he hated the rich and the priests and the rule they had over His people; He never forgave their power.’
‘And he will be King of your Kingdom?’
‘He is in all of us,’ said Argas, ‘when we are trying for the Kingdom. And the next thing in the prayer is asking not to be led into temptation, but to be delivered from evil. Because we all want to be good.’
‘Do we?’ said Beric, and added, ‘I wonder if Tigellinus does.’
‘Perhaps people with a lot of power don’t. But ordinary people do if things aren’t being too much for them. Well, that’s what the prayer’s about.’ Argas suddenly looked tired—tired and defeated. ‘But it doesn’t mean a thing to you!’
‘Yes, yes, you stupid, it does!’ said Beric, ‘and I’m glad it’s sense and not magic. But I want to sleep on it. And it’s late. Everyone else is asleep but us.’ He stood up.
‘I’ll bring you your lamp, sir,’ said Argas.
‘You will not,’ said Beric. ‘I shall get it for myself, and I shall actually carry it along to my own room myself! And we shall put out the lamps in here together.’ He began doing it. ‘And whether or not I have anything more to do with you Christians, I shall remember what you said, Argas, and if you come and wake me tomorrow morning—which you’ll probably be too sleepy to do—you shall tell me if you still want to be my friend.’
Argas wanted to answer, but didn’t know what to say. Only he felt happier and less tired. It was queer and nice going round with the Briton, putting out the lamps. Suddenly Beric said, over his shoulder, ‘Who did break that wine jar?’
‘You don’t want to punish for it twice,’ said Argas, a little uncomfortably.
‘I thought you were lying,’ Beric said. He went over, close to Argas. ‘I sent you off to get a whipping. What happened?’
‘I got it,’ Argas answered casually.
But Beric was thinking about it differently and with increasing trouble. ‘I never bothered—about it being a person. Someone like me. And you were only a slave. So they tied your hands’—he was speaking with a kind of horror now— ‘to the ring in the kitchen yard. What did they give you?’
‘Ten.’
‘Cut you?’
‘No fear! Old Felix wouldn’t try that on me. After all, I’m not one of the kitchen slaves! Not like poor little Dapyx; he’s one of us, too.’
‘What did you think about while it was going on?’
‘You don’t think much while you’re being whipped. You just don’t squeal.’
‘And then he untied you.’
Argas laughed. ‘Matter of fact, old Felix left me tied up for half an hour. He’d got me so that I could only stand on tiptoe. That hurt a bit.’
‘God!’ said Beric, ‘I’ll take it out of Felix!’
‘No you won’t,’ said Argas quickly. ‘It’s nothing to do with you. He had a bit of a down on me—that’s all. But I didn’t tell you as a master.’
‘What did you think about,’ Beric asked again, ‘while you were tied?’
‘I had my work cut out forgiving old Felix. But I did. That’s why you can’t touch him now—see?’
‘But it was me—I had you punished, Argas. For something you didn’t even do.’
‘Well, I forgave you, too. More or less. I knew she’d been at you. It’s all right. Don’t go getting upset about it!’
‘You were hurt and it was I who did it.’ Beric could hardly speak with misery and astonishment at what was having the power to make him miserable.
‘But I forgive you.’ Argas caught hold of the Briton’s hand and held it hard, with both of his. ‘Look—Beric—don’t go fussing about this, please! There are some houses where the slaves get it badly, and there are the mines, and… Oh, this was nothing! Good night and peace be with you—Beric.’
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