The sun was rising over the Esquiline, when the father and son, in festal dress, went out of the house. Norbanus was on the spot, and a large party of clients and friends. The Forum and the adjoining streets swarmed with spectators, notwithstanding the early hour. The recantation was the great event of the day. The supreme council of the Pontifices[95]--at the head of which sat Caesar as Pontifex Maximus--had agreed, in consideration of the distinguished merits of Titus Claudius, that the sacred ceremony should be one with the daily public sacrifice offered by the Flamen Dialis, and that Quintus should be held justified and free from all suspicion of Christian proclivities, if he would, after his father and in unison with the high-priest’s clients and friends, distinctly offer up a prayer to Jupiter, the almighty and all-merciful, calling down vengeance and destruction on all the foes of the State, and especially on the vile and reprobate sect of the Nazarenes. All this Titus Claudius had hastily explained to his son, adding that everything else was a mere matter of course. The solemn procession made its way up the broad steps to the Capitol. Quintus was suffocating, a weight lay on his breast like a tombstone. Once or twice he stood still, his knees trembled and he could hardly stand. Norbanus, who was walking by his side, had to support him. At the top Quintus involuntarily looked round him. His eye gazed over the heads of the crowd in the Forum, past the Flavian Amphitheatre, out to the Via Appia. There, to the left, hardly distinguishable in the distance, was the wood, in whose calm retreat salvation had been opened to him--and now? “Proceed--why do you hesitate?” said his father in his ear; and on they went to the temple. Here again a crowd, half curious and half reverent, had followed them and filled the vast hall. The altar of the patron divinity of the city was decked and wreathed with consecrated plants and costly streamers, ready for the sacred ceremony. A herald now proclaimed silence,[96] and not a murmur was heard. Two of the temple-servants led in the beasts for sacrifice, covered with garlands, while a third made a mixture of wine, spring-water, incense, and cones[97] with which to dedicate them. The high-priest took his place in front of the altar; he was as pale as death. Raising his hands, he spoke in a deep voice, audible in every corner: “Jupiter, the merciful and mighty one! Save and defend this city, that thou hast made great!” “Defend this city, that thou hast made great!” echoed from the chorus; and Quintus too moved his lips in a faint whisper. “Blast the foes of the Roman name with the lightnings of thy wrath!” Titus Claudius went on, and again the choir repeated the words. “More especially destroy all reprobates and traitors, who hoist the standard of superstition and plot the ruin of society. Crush the foul brood of rebellious Nazarenes!”