11 arena, the beasts became jumpy. One of the lions, the smallest one, grew restless and bore its teeth. This was clearly the most touchy of the beasts. Delighted, the spectators redoubled their enthusiasm and made even more noise. Suddenly, a projectile flew from the stands. Was it a stone? A clay cup? A weapon? No matter. It hit the back of one of the Christians, who stiffened under the blow. Immediately, a red spot began spreading on the top of his tunic. At the sight of blood, the crowd became more excited. A few more objects sailed through the air and fell into the sand of the arena. One hit the back of a lion, who leapt up in alarm. In the gallery, soldiers intervened to stop things from getting out of control. In the arena, the lions became more and more agitated. The noise, the shouting, and now the scent of blood tickling their nostrils—all combined to rouse them from their torpor. One of them, again the youngest, went to inspect the group of Christians standing frozen like statues. The animal sniffed, shook its head, and approached the wounded man. Then it roared and attacked. Octavia turned her head sharply away. She didn’t want to witness this slaughter. She wished she could even cover her ears in order not to hear. But she didn’t dare. From where she was seated, she was far too exposed to the public eye. People wouldn’t understand a vestal virgin not enjoying the spectacle like everyone else. With clenched teeth, Octavia put up with the shouts of the crowd, the snapping jaws of the lions, and the sound of ripping flesh. She felt her heart pounding in her temples. She felt nauseous. Then suddenly—nothing. The crowd fell silent, disappointed. They hadn’t gotten their money’s worth. They had expected more of a spectacle. Everything had happened too quickly. The Christians hadn’t
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