The damp cold of the dungeon is so deathly that the Apostles’ lives must have been preserved as by a miracle through those terrible eight months. They had bidden farewell to the light in the golden days of autumn; they came forth to meet its blinding radiance in the dazzle of June. Quickly the news spread among the Christians, ever eager to hear how it fared with their revered Pastors; and already, when these had but just emerged from their dungeon, loaded with chains and under a heavy guard, the intrepid crowd had formed in procession to accompany them to their triumph. Their sentences were already pronounced. St. Peter, the poor Jew, was to be scourged and crucified; St. Paul’s Roman citizenship forbade these humiliations; he was to be beheaded.
It is a long way from the Capitol to the Ostian gate and the Vatican, and the Apostles’ limbs, cramped from long confinement, must have moved slowly and wearily over the Via Sacra, now, for the first time, deserving of its name; the heat at that time of year is overpowering, and the blaze of midday beat down upon their heads. At a certain point, about three-quarters of a mile from the present gate of St. Paul, the cortège halted and divided itself into two, and here the Fathers of all Christianity bade one another farewell—for the few hours which must pass before they should be reunited “in the Lord.” The little chapel which marks the spot bears this inscription:[7]
“In this place SS. Peter and Paul separated on their way to Martyrdom, and Paul said to Peter, ‘Peace be with thee, Foundation of the Church, Shepherd of the flock of Christ,’ and Peter said to Paul, ‘Go in peace, Preacher of good tidings and Guide of the salvation of the just.’”
The soldiers who had charge of St. Paul led him away to the westward, to a spot whither, as St. Clement gives us to understand, the Emperor Nero deigned to come to enjoy the sight of his sufferings. St. Peter’s escort had been commanded to bring him to the Vatican hill, the old place for Christian executions, easy for the people to find, because of a very ancient terebinth tree which had stood there for hundreds of years and was a popular landmark. The murderers, when they were authorised ones, as in this case, always sought to give the greatest publicity to such executions, hoping (very much against hope, one would think) that the victims’ courage would give way and fear induce apostasy at the last moment; or, failing that, that the sight of their torments would deter others from embracing Christianity.