THE LION

 

The Emperor gave the sign. The iron grille, enclosing the entrance to the tunnel, rose and from the darkness came a crescendo of menacing roars. In the centre of the arena a group of Christians drew closer together. The spectators were on their feet. Excited chatter, cries of fear and the roar approaching like an avalanche. From the tunnel emerged the first lioness moving swiftly and silently. The spectacle had begun.

Armed with a long pole the keeper of the lions, Gaius, was checking if all the beasts had gone into the arena to take part in the terrible entertainment. He was about to give a sigh of relief when he noticed that one lion had stopped just short of the entrance and was calmly chewing a carrot. Gaius swore. One of his duties was to ensure that no beast remained idle. He approached the lion as far as safety and health regulations permitted and prodded the animal’s rump with his pole. To his surprise the lion only turned his head and swung his tail. Gaius prodded again, harder this time.

“Oh, leave me alone,” said the lion.

Gaius scratched his head. The lion had made it crystal clear that it did not wish to go into the arena. Gaius was a kind man but he was afraid that if the supervisor caught him neglecting his duties he would soon find himself among the victims in the arena.

On the other hand he did not feel like arguing with the lion. He tried persuasion.

“Perhaps you’ll go out just for my sake?”

“I’m no fool,” replied the lion and continued to eat his carrot.

Gaius lowered his voice.

“I’m not saying that you have to jump at one of those wretches and tear him to pieces. Just go and run about a little and roar. That’ll give us an alibi.”

The lion swung his tail.

“Man, I’ve told you that I’m no fool. They’ll see me and remember me. Later nobody will believe that I didn’t eat one of them.”

The keeper sighed and asked with an accent of complaint: “And why don’t you want to?”

The lion looked at him attentively.

“You’ve yourself used the word ‘alibi’. Hasn’t it occurred to you why all those patricians there don’t run into the arena and themselves tear the Christians to pieces, but instead rely on us, the lions?”

“Oh, I don’t know. They are mostly old men. Short of breath, you know. Asthma. …”

“Old men,” purred the lion mockingly. “You know a lot about politics. They simply want to have an alibi.”

“Why?”

“Because of the new truth that is gaining ground. One has always to watch what’s new and growing. Has it never crossed your mind that the Christians could come to power?”

“They—to power?”

“Yes. One has got to be able to read between the lines. It looks to me as if Constantine the Great is likely to come to terms with them sooner or later. And then what? Investigations and rehabilitations. Then those up there in the amphitheatre will be able to say: ‘It wasn’t us, it was the lions.’ ”

“Really, I never thought of it that way.”

“There you are. But never mind them. I want to save my own skin. When it comes to it there will be witnesses to say that all I did was to eat a carrot. Mind you, it’s filthy stuff, this carrot.”

“But all your comrades,” said Gaius not without malice, “they are all gobbling up the Christians with great gusto.”

“Stupid beasts. Short-sighted opportunists. No tactical sense at all. From darkest Africa——”

“I say,” interrupted Gaius.

“Yes?”

“Should those Christians, you know …”

“What about them?”

“Should they come to power …”

“Well?”

“Will you then testify that I didn’t force you to do anything?”

“Salus Respublicae summa lex tibi esto,” said the lion sententiously and returned to his carrot.

SŁAWOMIR MROŻEK

The Elephant