The Secret of the Kingdom

Book VII

Agrippina

As we spent the hottest part of the summer on the coast at Caere, my wife Flavia Sabina found an outlet for her need for activity in building us a new modern summer dwelling, instead of the old rush-roofed fisherman’s hut. At the same time she observed me and my weaknesses, without my knowledge, and without mention of my future plans, for she noticed that the mere mention of office depressed me. After our return to the city, she consulted her father, with the result that the City Prefect, Flavius Sabinus, sent for me.

“The wooden amphitheater is just being completed and Nero himself is to be present at the opening ceremony,” he told me. “I am having trouble with the valuable wild animals which keep arriving from all corners of the world. The old menagerie in the via Flaminia is much too small, and Nero is making special demands. He wants trained animals which can perform acts which have never before been seen, and senators and knights are to give demonstrations of their hunting skills in the arena. So the animals which care to be hunted mustn’t be too wild. On the other hand, the animals which are to fight each other must be exciting enough to watch. What we need is a reliable superintendent who will be responsible for the animals and who will also arrange all that part of the program. Nero is willing to nominate you for the post, as you have some experience with wild animals, and it is a worthy office in the service of the State.”

I suppose I had only myself to blame for this, as I had happened to boast that as a boy I had once captured a lion alive, and among the brigands in Cilicia I had once saved the lives of my companions when a brigand chieftain amused himself by chasing us into a bear’s cave. But to care for hundreds of wild animals and arrange performances in the amphitheater was such a responsibility that I did not consider I had the right qualifications to fill the post.

When I said this to my father-in-law, he replied caustically, “You’ll receive whatever money you need from the Imperial treasury. The most experienced animal trainers from every country will be competing to enter the service of Rome. Nothing more is asked of you than good judgment and good taste in choosing the programs. Sabina will help you. She has been running around the menagerie since she was a child and loves taming animals.”

This was news to me. Cursing my fate, I returned home and complained bitterly to Sabina.

“I’’d rather take the post of Quaestor to please you than be an animal trainer,” I said.

Sabina looked at me, as if summing me up, then put her head on one side.

“No, you’d never be a consul, you poor thing,” she said. “So why shouldn’t you have an exciting and interesting life as superintendent of the menagerie? There’s never been anyone in that post with the rank of knight before.”

I told her my interests lay more in a bookish direction.

“What’s a reputation earned in a lecture room worth,” she said scornfully, “where fifty or a hundred people clap their hands in gratitude when you at last stop reading? You’re an unenterprising idler. You’ve no ambition at all.”

Sabina was so angry that I did not dare annoy her even more, although the reputation to be gained from stinking wild animals did not appeal to me. We went at once to the menagerie, and during our brief tour, I could see that matters were even worse than the City Prefect had described.

The animals were starving after their long journeys and they had no suitable food. A valuable tiger lay dying, and no one had any real idea what the rhinos, which had been brought from Africa at great expense, normally ate, for they had trampled their experienced keeper to death. The drinking water was foul, and the elephants would not eat. The cages were much too cramped and dirty. The giraffes were practically dying of fright because they had been placed next to the lions’ cages.

The bellowing and roaring from the harassed animals made my head spin and the stench was overpowering. None of the foremen and slaves in the menagerie wished to be responsible for anything. “Not my job,” was the usual reply when I attempted to ask anyone anything. They even protested that hungry and frightened animals fought better in the arena, as long as one could keep them more or less alive until the day of the performance.

Sabina was most interested in two enormous hairy apes, larger than men, which had been brought to Rome from some unknown part of Africa. They took no notice of the meat offered to them and would not even drink.

“The whole place must be rebuilt,” I said decisively. ‘The animal trainers must have enough space and the cages must be big enough for the animals to be able to move about. Running water must be brought to them. Every species of animal must be fed and cared for by especially appointed men who know their habits.”

The foreman with me shook his head.

“What’s the point of that?” he said. “The animals will die in the arena anyhow.”

Infuriated by all these objections, I flung the apple I had been eating at the cage of giant apes.

“Must the first thing I do be to flog you all,” I shouted, “so that you learn your trade?”

Sabina put her hand on my arm to calm me, at the same time nodding toward the apes. I watched in wonder as a hairy arm reached out for the apple, and then the beast bared its frightful teeth and crunched up the apple in one bite. I frowned and looked as stern as I could.

“Give them a basket of fruit,” I said, “and fresh water in a clean vessel.”

The keeper burst out laughing.

“Wild animals like that are meat eaters,” he said. “You can see that from their teeth.”

Sabina snatched the whip from his hand and struck him across the face.

“Is that the way to speak to your master?” she cried.

The man was both frightened and angry, but to show me up, he fetched a basket of fruit and emptied it into the cage. The starving animals came to life and fell on the food, and to my own surprise, they even liked grapes. This was so strange to the keepers that they all gathered around to watch and stopped laughing at my orders.

When my authority had been established, I soon noticed that the main failing was not lack of experience but a general indifference and lack of discipline. From foreman down to slaves, it was considered a natural right to steal some of the ingredients of the animals’ food and so the animals were haphazardly fed.

The architect who had designed Nero’s wooden amphitheater and was responsible for its construction considered it beneath him to trouble with animals cages and exercising yards. But when he saw my drawings and heard Sabina’s explanations of what was involved, in fact an entirely new section of the city, he became interested.

I dismissed or gave other work to all the men who were amusing themselves by tormenting the animals, or who were too frightened of them. Sabina and I thought up an attractive uniform for the menagerie’s many employees, and we also built ourselves a house within the menagerie grounds, for I soon noticed that I had to be at the place day and night if I really wished to care for these valuable animals properly.

We abandoned all social life and devoted ourselves completely to the animals, even to the extent of Sabina’s keeping lion cubs in our bed and forcing me to feed them from a horn when their mother died at their birth. Our own married life we forgot in the rush, for to supervise a menagerie is undoubtedly an exciting and responsible task.

When we had cleaned up the menagerie, found sufficient regular provisions and appointed efficient and interested keepers for all the different animals, we had to begin planning the events for the inaugural performance in the amphitheater, the day of which was approaching with alarming speed.

I had watched a sufficient number of animal fights to know how hunts should be organized in the arena to be as safe as possible for the huntsmen but yet look exciting. It was more difficult to decide which animals should be set against which, for the crowd was used to seeing the most remarkable combinations of this kind. I had great hopes of. the displays by the trained animals, for skilled animal trainers from every country were constantly offering me their services.

The actual practicing for these displays proved less difficult than trying to keep them secret until the day. We were constantly overrun with spectators who wanted to come into the menagerie, so in the end I decided on an entry fee for those who wished to walk about. The money that came in in this way, I used for the menagerie itself, although I could have kept it, as had been my initial idea. Children and slaves came in free, if the crowds were not too great.

A week before the inauguration, a lame bearded man came to see me, and I did not recognize him as Simon the magician until he began to speak to me. The ban on fortunetelling by the stars was still in force, so he could no longer use his handsome Chaldaean cloak covered with the signs of the zodiac. He looked wretched and destitute, his eyes restless, and he made such a strange request that at first I thought he had lost his reason. He wished to give a public demonstration of flying in the amphitheater to retrieve his good name and reputation.

As far as I could make out from his confused account, his powers of faith-healing had declined and he was no longer fashionable. His daughter had died from the intrigues of hostile magicians, he maintained. The Christians in Rome, in particular, had hated and persecuted him to such an extent that he was threatened with destitution and an insecure old age. So now he wished to demonstrate his divine powers to all the people.

“I know that I can fly,” he said. “Before, I flew in front of great crowds and appeared from a cloud, until one of the Christian messengers came with their sorcery and made me fall in the forum and break my knee. I want to prove that I can still fly, to myself as well as others. I once threw myself down from the Aventine tower at night in a heavy storm and spread out my cloak for wings. I flew without any difficulty and landed unscathed on my feet.”

“In truth, I never believed you flew,” I said, “but simply distorted people’s eyes so that they believed they had seen you flying.”

Simon the magician twisted his gnarled hands and scratched his bearded chin.

“Perhaps I did distort people’s eyes,” he said, “but no matter. I was forced to persuade myself that I was flying, with such power that I still believe I have flown. But I do not strive to reach the clouds any longer. It will be sufficient for me if I succeed in flying once or twice around the amphitheater. Then I shall believe in my own power and that my angels are holding me up in the air,”

The thought of flying was the only thing in his head, so in the end I asked how he thought he was going to arrange it. He explained that a high mast could be erected in the middle of the amphitheater and he could be pulled up to the top in a basket so that he would be sufficiently high, for he could not raise himself from the ground with a hundred thousand people looking on. He stared at me with his piercing eyes and spoke so convincingly that my head whirled. At least, I thought, this would be an event which had never before been seen in any amphitheater, and it was Simon the magician’s own business if he felt he had to risk breaking his neck. Perhaps he might even succeed in his reckless attempt.

Nero came to the amphitheater to watch when several Greek youths were practicing a sword dance. It was a hot autumn day, and Nero wore nothing but a sweat-drenched tunic as he shouted praises and urged the youths on, occasionally taking a part in the dance himself to set an example to them. When I put Simon the magician’s proposal to him, he was at once enthusiastic.

“Flying is remarkable enough in itself,” he added, “but we must find an artistic framework to make an exceptional event of it. He can be Icarus, but we must get Daedalus and his masterpiece in too. Why not Pasiphae too, so the crowd can have some fun?”

His imagination began to work with such liveliness that I was thankful for my good fortune. We also agreed that Simon should shave off his beard, dress up as a Greek youth, and have glittering gilded wings fastened to his back.

When I put these Imperial demands to Simon, at first he refused point-blank to shave, maintaining that it would take his powers away. He had no objections to the wings. When I spoke of Daedalus and the wooden cow, he told me of the Jewish myth about Sampson, who had lost all his strength when a strange woman had cut off his hair. But when I suggested that he obviously had little faith in his ability to fly, he agreed to the demands. I asked him whether he wanted the mast erected at once to give him time to practice, but he said practicing would only weaken his powers. It would be better if he fasted and read incantations in solitude to gather his strength for the day of the performance.

Nero had prescribed that the program should both edify and entertain the public. For the first time in history, a huge show of this kind was to take place without the deliberate spilling of human blood. Thus the people had to be made to laugh as much as possible between the exciting and artistically excellent events. During unavoidable intervals, gifts were to be thrown to the crowd, such as roasted birds, fruit and cakes, and ivory lottery tablets, from which lots for corn, clothes, silver and gold, draft oxen, slaves and even land would be drawn later on.

Nero did not want to have professional gladiators at all. So, and to emphasize the worthiness and dignity of his show, he ordered that the games should be introduced with a battle between four hundred senators and six hundred knights. It amused the people to see important men of irreproachable reputation battering at each other with wooden swords and blunted lances. Groups of elite warriors also displayed their skills, but the crowd was dissatisfied when no one was injured, and began to mate itself heard volubly on this point. The soldiers on guard began to move in, but Nero made it known that he wished them to withdraw so that the people of Rome should get used to freedom.

This command roused applause and general delight. The malcontents restrained themselves, to show that they were worthy of the Emperor’s confidence. A duel with nets and tridents between two fat and breathless senators was so comical that the crowd let out a giant roar of laughter, and both gentlemen in fact became so angry with each other that they would certainly have been hurt had the tridents been sharpened or if the nets had had the usual lead weights on them.

Three men displaying giant snakes caused considerable horror when they allowed the snakes to crawl all over them, but Nero was not pleased when no one realized they were supposed to represent Laocoon and his sons. The lion, tiger and bison hunts ran their course without mishap, much to the disappointment of the crowd, for which the young knights representing the huntsmen had me to thank as I had had protective towers built for them here and there in the arena. I myself disliked this display because I had already become so fond of my animals that I did not like to see them killed.

There was gigantic applause for a young lion-tamer, a supple young woman who came rushing out of a dark entrance, straight across the arena, with three apparently raging lions at her heels. A great hum went through the crowd, but the woman halted the lions with her whip in the middle of the sand and made them sit down obediently like dogs, and jump through hoops at her commands.

The noise and applause must have upset the lions, for when the woman did her boldest act, forcing the great male lion to open his mouth and placing her own head inside it, the lion quite unexpectedly closed his jaws again and bit into her head. This surprise caused such jubilation and such a storm of applause that I had time to rescue the lions.

A chain of slaves equipped with burning torches and red-hot bars hastily surrounded them and drove them back into their cages. Otherwise the mounted archers would have been forced to kill them. To tell the truth, I was so anxious about my valuable lions that I jumped unarmed into the arena to issue orders to the slaves.

I was, however, so incensed that I gave the male lion a kick under the jaw with my iron-shod boot to make him loosen his grip on his mistress’ head. The lion growled angrily but was probably so upset by the accident that he did not attack me.

After a troupe of painted Negroes had baited a rhino, a wooden cow was carried into the arena and the clown Paris performed the story of Daedalus and Pasiphae, while a giant bull so eagerly mounted the hollow wooden cow that most of the crowd believed that Pasiphae really had hidden herself inside it.

Simon the magician with his huge golden wings was a spectacle which surprised everyone. With gesticulations Paris tried to induce him to do some dance steps, but Simon rejected the attempt with the swirl of his magnificent wings. Two sailors hoisted him up to a platform at the top of the immensely high mast. In the upper galleries, several Jews began to shout curses, but the crowd silenced them and Simon turned in all directions to greet the people as he stood up on the mast on this, the most solemn moment of his life. I think that right up to lie very last moment, he was convinced he would conquer and crush his rivals.

So he swung his wings once more and leaped out into the air in the direction of the Imperial box, only to fall immediately, so close to Nero that several drops of blood splashed on the Emperor. He died instantly, of course, and afterwards it was discussed whether he really had flown or not. Some people maintained they had seen his left wing damaged as he was being hoisted up in the basket. Others thought the Jews’ terrible curses had made him fall. Perhaps he would have succeeded if he had been allowed to retain his beard.

Anyhow, the performances had to continue. The sailors now fastened a thick rope between the first gallery and the foot of the mast. To the great surprise of the crowd, an elephant then carefully walked along the rope from the gallery to the arena, a knight known all over Rome for his foolhardiness seated on its neck. He had not taught the elephant tightrope-walking, of course, for it was used to doing this without a rider. But he received the final applause for a display of skills and daring never before seen in any amphitheater.

I think the crowd was on the whole satisfied with what had been shown. Simon the magician’s death-leap and the lion-tamer’s sudden death were both considered the best events, the only complaint being that they had been carried out much too quickly. The senators and knights who had been forced to appear as hunters were pleased to have escaped without mishap. Only the most old-fashioned spectators complained that no human blood had flowed in honor of the Roman gods, and they recalled the cruel days of Claudius with a tinge of melancholy.

The majority bravely hid their disappointment, for Nero had generously had expensive gifts distributed during the intervals. The withdrawal of the Praetorians had also appealed to the people’s natural sense of freedom and less than a hundred spectators had been seriously injured in the fights over the ivory lots.

Octavia, the Emperor’s wife, had borne in silence the insult of Nero permitting Acte to watch the show from the Imperial box, even if only through a peephole in a special wall. Agrippina had not been allocated a place, and Nero had let it be known that his mother was not well. Someone in the crowd was said to have shouted out that perhaps she had been eating mushrooms. I myself did not hear this, but Nero was said to have been pleased that the people fearlessly used this opportunity to air their freedom of speech in his presence.

My menagerie had suffered saddening losses, but some basic stock remained of course, which I intended to use as the foundation by which the menagerie could be replenished with wild animals from all corners of the earth. In this way displays in the future would not be dependent on chance, but could be put on whenever Nero felt it necessary to entertain the people. Knowing Nero’s whims, I thought there was good reason to be prepared beforehand for political events which demantled entertainment organized to lull the people into forgetting unpleasant things.

The day before, the dead rhinos’ matrices had stiffened into a clear, trembling mass in their African cooking-trenches, where they had been simmering all night. I prepared to take this rare delicacy, which as far as I know had never been seen before in Rome, to the Emperor’s table. Sadly I looked at the empty cages, at the slaves back at their everyday work and at the modest house in which Sabina and I had lived a strenuous but, as I now thought, happy phase of our life.

“Sabina,” I cried gratefully, “without your experience of animals and your indefatigable energy, I should never have accomplished this task with honor. We’re sure to miss these days sometimes, in spite of the setbacks and surprises, when we return to ordinary life.”

“Return?” my wife said briskly, her face stiffening. “What do you mean by that, Minutus?”

“I’ve accomplished my mission to your father’s and the Emperor’s satisfaction, I hope,” I replied. “Now I’m taking a new dish to Nero and our Procurator is settling the finances with the Imperial treasury. Nero has no head for figures and to be honest, neither can I understand such involved bookkeeping, except in round figures. But I think everything is in order and I don’t mind about the money I have lost. Perhaps Nero will reward me in some way, but the best reward to me has been the applause of the people. More than that I do not demand, and anyhow, I could not endure this uninterrupted excitement much longer.”

“Which of us has had most to endure?” said Sabina. “I can hardly believe my ears. You’ve only taken the first step. Do you mean to say you are prepared to abandon the lion which now has no trainer, or those almost human giant apes, one of which is coughing horribly and needs care, not to mention the other animals? No, Minutus, you must be tired or in a bad mood. Father has promised that you can keep your present position under my supervision. It saves him a great deal of trouble since he doesn’t have to squabble over the miserly grants from the State.”

Now it was my turn to refuse to believe my ears.

“Flavia Sabina,” I said, “I’m not going to spend the rest of my life as a keeper, however valuable and beautiful the animals are. On my father’s side I am descended from the Etruscan kings of Caere, just as much as Otho or anyone else is.”

“Your origins are doubtful, to say the least,” snapped Sabina angrily. “And we’ll not even mention your Greek mother. The wax masks in your father’s house were inherited by Tullia. In the Flavius family there have at least been consuls. We are living in different times. Don’t you see that the superintendent of the menagerie is a political position anyone might envy, even if it is not generally recognized yet?”

“I’ve no desire to compete with horsemen and cittern players,” I protested stiffly. “I can name two elderly senators who already put their togas to their noses when they meet me, as if to protect themselves from the stench of the menagerie. Five hundred years ago the most noble of patricians would boast of smelling of manure, but we no longer live in those times. And I must say, I’m tired of lion cubs in our bed. You’ve more affection for them than you have for me, your husband.”

Sabina’s face turned yellow with fury.

“I haven’t wanted to hurt you by mentioning your capabilities as a husband,” she said, controlling herself with difficulty. “A more intelligent and tactful man would have drawn his own conclusions long ago. We are not carved from the same wood, Minutus. But a marriage is a marriage and bed is not the most important part of it. In your place, I’d be pleased to see my wife finding other interests with which to fill her empty life. But I’ve decided on your behalf that we shall stay at the menagerie. Father thinks the same.”

“My father may also have his views on the matter,” I threatened rather feebly. “His money won’t go on paying for the menagerie forever.”

But that was irrelevant. What hurt most was Sabina’s unexpected reproaches for my failure as a husband.

I had to see to getting the rhino-matrice jelly to Palatine while it was still hot, so our quarrel was interrupted. It was not our first quarrel by any means, but it was certainly the worst one we had had so far, and much the most hurtful.

Nero asked me to join him for the meal, which was quite natural, and to show his favor he ordered half a million sesterces given to me for the work done; which indicated that he had not the slightest idea of the cost of running the menagerie. In fact, I was never paid that sum, but I did not feel it necessary to ask for it as my father was not short of ready cash.

I remarked a little sourly that it would be of greater importance to me if the post of superintendent of the menagerie became a State appointment, so that when I left it could be put in my roll of merit. My suggestion gave rise to a jocular discussion which my father-in-law swiftly put an end to by saying that such an important office could not be left for a capricious Senate to hand over to an unsuitable applicant. According to him this was legally an Imperial appointment, like that of kitchen superintendent or superintendent of the clothing store or stable-master, and could be lost only by falling from the Emperor’s grace.

“From our ruler’s pleased countenance, I presume you still have his confidence,” my father-in-law said finally. “You are the superintendent as far as it concerns me as City Prefect, so don’t spoil an important discussion with any more remarks of that kind.”

Nero began eagerly expounding his plans for games which would take place every five years, on the Greek pattern, to raise the level of the people’s education and taste.

“We can proclaim that the aim is to ensure the State’s continued existence,” he said thoughtfully. “I myself will see to it that they will be looked on as the greatest games of all times. At first they can be quite simply called Nero’s feast games, so that the people get used to them. We’ll divide them up into musical games, athletic games and the customary races. I am thinking of inviting the Vestal Virgins as spectators to the athletics since I have heard that the Ceres priestesses have the same right at the Olympic Games. The most important features of all noble sports will be located in Rome. This is politically suitable, for it is, after all, we who administer our inheritance from Hellas. Let us show ourselves worthy of it.”

I could not enthuse over his great plans, for reason told me that this Knd of Greek games would only lower the reputation of animal shows and make my own office less worthy. Naturally the crowd would always prefer the pleasures of the amphitheater to songs, music and athletics. I knew the people of Rome well enough for that. But Nero’s high-flown interest in art seemed to be transforming the amphitheater into a rather doubtful kind of pleasure.

As I returned to our house at the menagerie, I was not in the best of moods and then, to my despair, Aunt Laelia and Sabina were quarreling fiercely when I arrived. Aunt Laelia had come to fetch the body of Simon the magician, which she wished to bury without cremation in the Jewish way, since Simon had no other friends to perform this last service for him. The Jews and their kind had underground caves outside the city where they kept the bodies of their dead. Aunt Laelia had wasted a great deal of time before she found out about these half-secret burial grounds.

I made inquiries and discovered that no one had asked after Simon the magician’s body in time, so it had been given to the animals to eat, as was the usual practice in the menagerie with the bodies of slaves. I did not like this practice, but of course it reduced costs as long as one saw to it that the flesh was healthy. I had forbidden my subordinates to use the bodies of people who had died of diseases for feeding to the animals.

In this case, I thought Sabina had been too hasty. Simon the magician had been a respected man in his own circles and had deserved a burial according to his own people’s customs. In fact a chewed skull and a few vertebrae were all the slaves could find after they had chased the angry lions away from their meal.

I had the remains put in a hastily acquired urn and handed it to Aunt Laelia, telling her not to have it opened for the sake of her own peace of mind. Sabina openly showed her contempt for our softhearted-ness.

After that evening, we slept in separate rooms. In spite of the bitterness I felt, I slept markedly better than I had done for a long time, now that I did not have lion cubs climbing all over me. They had now grown knifelike teeth.

After Simon the magician’s death, Aunt Laelia soon lost her will to live and what reason she had possessed. She had, of course, long been an elderly woman. But instead of trying to hide this, as she had done hitherto with clothes, wigs and paint, she now gave up the struggle and for the most part remained hidden indoors, muttering to herself and talking about the old days, which she remembered far better than the present.

When I realized that she no longer even knew who was Emperor and that she was confusing me with my father, I thought I ought to stay overnight as often as possible in my old house on Aventine. Sabina had no objections, and in fact seemed pleased to be able to supervise the menagerie on her own.

Sabina was happy with the animal trainers, although, in spite of their much respected professional skill, they were mostly ignorant people who could talk of nothing else but their animals. Sabina was also good at supervising the unloading of the wild animals from the ships and was better than I was at haggling over the price. First and foremost, she maintained ruthless discipline among the employees in the menagerie.

I soon noticed that I had much less to do as long as I arranged for Sabina to have enough money for the menagerie, for the grant from the Imperial treasury did not go far toward maintenance and provisions. That was why I had been given to understand that the post of superintendent was an honorary office which presupposed one used one’s own means.

Thanks to my Gallic freedman, money poured in from his soap factory. One of my Egyptian freedmen manufactured expensive salves for women, and Hierex sent me handsome gifts from Corinth. But my freedmen liked to put their profits into new business enterprises. The soap maker expanded his business to all the big cities in the Empire and Hierex was speculating in sites in Corinth. My father remarked mildly that the menagerie was not a very profitable business.

To help mitigate the housing shortage, I had several seven-story blocks of dwellings built on a burned-out site which I had acquired cheaply thanks to my father-in-law. I also earned a little by equipping and sending out expeditions to Thessalia, Armenia and Africa, and selling the surplus animals to games in the provincial cities. Naturally we kept the best animals for ourselves.

My largest income came from the ships, in which I had the right to buy shares, which sailed to India from the Red Sea, officially to be able to transport rare animals from India. The goods were brought to Rome via Alexandria, and manufactured products from Gaul and wines from Campania were taken to India in exchange.

Through an agreement with the Arabian princes, Rome was allowed a base on the southern point of the Red Sea with the right to maintain a garrison there. This was already necessary because the demand for luxury goods rose as the prosperity of the nation increased, and the Parthians would not allow Rome’s caravans through their country without taking an intermediary share in the profits on the goods.

Alexandria gained from the new order, but large trading centers such as Antioch and Jerusalem suffered from the falling prices of Indian goods. So the great merchant princes in Syria, via their agents, “began to spread the idea in Rome that war with Parthia would sooner or later be inevitable, to open a direct overland trade route to India.

When the situation in Armenia had calmed down, Rome had made connections with the Hyrcanians, who controlled the salty Caspian Sea north of Parthia. In this way, a trade route to China was established, circumventing the Parthians and bringing both silk and porcelain to Rome across the Black Sea. It must be said that my grasp of the whole situation was not particularly clear, and this was also true with other noblemen in Rome. It was said that it took two whole years to bring goods on camels from China to the Black Sea coast. Most reasonable people did not believe that any country could possibly be that far away and said that this was an invention of the caravan merchants to justify their extortionate prices.

In her more sullen moments, Sabina used to urge me to go to India myself to fetch tigers, or to China for the legendary dragons, or to travel up the Nile to darkest Nubia for rhinos. Bitter as I was, I sometimes felt like setting out on a long journey, but then my reason would return to me and I would realize that there were experienced men more suited to the task and the rigors of the journeys than I.

So every year on the anniversary of my mother’s death, I used to free one of the menagerie’s slaves and equip him for a journey. One of my travel-hungry Greek freedmen I sent to Hyrcania to try to get to China. He had the advantage of being able to write, and I had hoped that he would be able to give a useful account of his journey which I could then have made into a book. But I never heard from him again.

After my marriage and the death of Britannicus, I had to some extent begun to avoid Nero. When I think about it now, I see that my marriage to Sabina was in some ways an escape from the closed circle around Nero, which perhaps accounts for my sudden and foolish attraction to her.

When I again had more time to myself, I began to arrange modest receptions for Roman authors at my house. Annaeus Lucanus, the son of one of Seneca’s cousins, was pleased when I unrestrainedly praised his poetic talents. Petronius, who was a few years older than I, liked the little book I had written about the brigands in Cilicia for its deliberate use of the simple language of the people.

Petronius himself was a refined man and had as his ambition, after fulfilling his political duties, to develop life into a fine art. He was a trying friend to have inasmuch as he liked to sleep in the daytime and stay awake at night, on the grounds that the noise of the traffic in Rome at night prevented him from sleeping.

I began to plan and partly wrote a handbook on wild animals, their capture, transportation, care and training. To make it useful to the audience, I recounted many exciting incidents I had myself witnessed or heard described by others, and only exaggerated as much as an author has a right to do to hold his public’s interest. Petronius thought it would be an excellent book of lasting value, and he himself borrowed from it some of the coarser expressions in the language of the amphitheater.

I no longer took part in Nero’s nighttime escapades in the less reputable parts of Rome, for my father-in-law was the City Prefect. In this I behaved wisely, for these wild pleasures came to a sad end.

Nero never bore a grudge against anyone if he were beaten in a fight, but just took this as a sign that the fight had been an honest one. But an unfortunate senator, defending his wife’s honor, happened to hit him very hard on the head, and was then stupid enough to write an apologetic letter to Nero afterwards when he discovered to his horror whom he had struck. Nero had no alternative then but to marvel that a man who had struck his Emperor could continue to live and also boast of his deed in shameless letters. So the senator had his physician open his veins.

Seneca was annoyed at this incident and considered it necessary to find other outlets for Nero’s wildness. So he had Emperor Gaius’ circus on the edge of Vatican set up as a private pleasure ground for Nero. There, with reliable friends and noblemen as spectators, he could at last practice the art of driving a team of horses to his heart’s content.

Agrippina gave him her gardens, which stretched all the way to Janiculus, with its many brothels. Seneca hoped that the athletics, which Nero practiced in semisecrecy, would lessen his, for an Emperor, exaggerated pleasure in music and singing. Nero soon became a bold and fearless driver, for he had of course loved horses ever since his childhood.

In fact he seldom needed to look around on the race course for fear that others would tip his chariot over, but the art of controlling a Spanish team on the curves of the circus is not given to every man. Many a racing enthusiast has broken his neck on the race course, or been crippled for life by falling from his chariot and failing to loosen the reins from his body in time.

In Britain, Flavius Vespasian had had a serious dispute with Oc-torius and was finally ordered home. Young Titus had begun to distinguish himself in his service and once had courageously taken command of a cavalry division and hastened to the aid of his father who was surrounded by Britons, though Vespasian maintained that he would have managed well enough on his own.

Seneca considered these perpetual petty wars in Britain both pointless and dangerous, for in his opinion the loan he had made the British kings created peace in the country more effectively than punitive expeditions which were nothing but a burden on the treasury. Nero permitted Vespasian to take up the office of Consul for a few months, appointed him to a distinguished College and later had him chosen as Proconsul in Africa for the customary term of office.

When we met in Rome, Vespasian looked at me appraisingly. “You’ve changed a great deal-over the years, Minutus Manilianus,” he said, “and I don’t just mean the scars on your face either. When you were In Britain, I wouldn’t have believed that we should be related by your marrying my niece. But a young man makes more progress in Rome than by gelling rheumatism for life in Britain and marry now and again the Britons’ way.”

I had almost forgotten my nominal marriage in the Iceni country. The meeting with Vespasian reminded me unpleasantly of my painful experiences there, and I begged him to remain silent on the point.

“What legionary hasn’t bastards in the countries of the world?” he said. “But your hare priestess, Lugunda, has not married again. She is bringing up your son in the Roman way. The noblest Icenis are that civilized already.”

The news hurt, for my wife Sabina showed no sign nor even desire to bear me a child, and we had not slept together with that intention for a long time. But I chased away my disturbing thoughts of Lugunda as

I had done before, and Vespasian willingly agreed to keep my British marriage secret, for he knew of his niece’s harsh nature.

At the banquet which my father-in-law held in Vespasian’s honor, I met Lollia Poppaea for the first time. It was said that her mother had been the most beautiful woman in Rome and had attracted Claudius’ attention to such an extent that Messalina had had her removed from the rolls of the living, though I did not believe all the evil things that were still said about Messalina.

Poppaea’s father, Lollius, as a youth had belonged to the circle of friends around Sejanus and so was eternally out of favor. Lollia Poppaea was married to a rather insignificant knight called Crispinus and used her grandfather’s, Poppaeus Sabinus, name instead of her father’s. Her grandfather had been a Consul and had also celebrated a triumph in his day.

So Poppaea was related to Flavius Sabinus, but in such an involved way, as was usual in the Roman nobility, that I never quite fathomed how. Aunt Laelia’s memory was often faulty and she often confused different people. When I greeted Poppaea Sabina, I said I was sorry that my wife Sabina had nothing else but a name in common with her.

Poppaea innocently opened wide her dark gray eyes. I noticed later that their color changed according to her mood and the light.

“Do you think I’m so old and experienced after one childbirth that I cannot even be compared with my maidenly Artemis cousin Sabina?” she said, deliberately misunderstanding me. ‘We are the same age, Sabina and I.”

My head whirled as I looked into her eyes.

“No,” I protested. “I mean you’re the most modest and decent married woman I have seen in Rome, and I can only be amazed at your beauty, now I have seen you for the first time without your veil.”

“I have to wear a veil out in the sun because my skin is so delicate,” said Poppaea Sabina with a shy smile. “I envy your Sabina, who can stand as muscular and sunburned as Diana, cracking her whip in the heat of the arena.”

“She is not my Sabina, even if we are married according to the longer form,” I said bitterly. “She is the Sabina of the lion-tamers and Sabina of the lions, and her language becomes coarser and coarser every year.”

“Remember, we are related, she and I,” said Poppaea Sabina warningly. “Nevertheless, I’m not the only person in Rome to wonder why such a sensitive person as you chose Sabina of all people, when you could have had anyone else.”

I indicated my surroundings and implied that there were other reasons besides mutual liking for a marriage, and Flavia Sabina’s father was the Prefect of Rome and her uncle had earned a triumph. I do not know how it came about, but roused by Poppaea’s shy presence I began to talk about one thing and another, and it was not long before Pop-paea shyly admitted that she was unhappy in her wretched marriage with the conceited Praetorian centurion.

“One asks for more in a man than a haughty mien, shining armor and red plumes,” she said. “I was an innocent child when I was given to him in marriage. I am not strong, as you see. My skin is so delicate that I have to bathe it every day with wheaten bread soaked in ass’s milk.”

But she was not quite so young and weak as she maintained, and I felt this as she unwittingly pressed one breast against my elbow. Her skin was so marvelously white that I had never seen anything like it before and could find no words to describe it. I mumbled the usual things about gold, ivory and Chinese porcelain, but I think my eyes bore witness to how enraptured I was by her young beauty.

We could not talk for long, for I had to see to my many duties as son-in-law at my father-in-law’s banquet. But I fulfilled them absentmind-edly and could think of nothing else but Poppaea’s deep gray eyes and shimmering complexion. I stumbled, too, as I read out the ancient oaths to the guardian spirits of the house.

Finally my wife Sabina drew me to one side.

“Your eyes are quite rigid and your face is red,” she said acidly, “as if you were drunk, although there has been little wine drunk yet. Don’t get entangled in Lollia Poppaea’s intrigues. She’s a calculating little bitch, and she has her price, but I’m afraid it’s too high for a fool like you.”

I was angry on Poppaea’s behalf, for her behavior was quite innocent and one could not possibly mistake it. At the same time, Sabina’s offensive remark excited me secretly and made me think that perhaps I had some hope if I were tactful enough to become closer acquainted with Poppaea.

In a brief pause in my duties I approached her again, which was not difficult since other women obviously avoided her and the men had once again gathered around the guest of honor to listen to his unvarnished stories from Britain.

To my dazzled eyes, Poppaea looked like an abandoned child, however proudly she tried to hold up her blonde head. I felt a great tenderness for her, but when I tried to. brush her bare arm she jerked back, turned away and gave me a look which reflected deep disappointment.

“Is that all you want, Minutus?” she whispered bitterly. “Are you like all other men, although I hoped I had found a friend in you. Don’t you see why I prefer hiding my face behind a veil to exposing myself to lustful stares? Remember I am married, although if I could get a divorce, I could feel free.”

I assured her that I would rather open my veins than hurt her in any way. She was near to tears and leaned against me in exhaustion so that I could feel her body against mine. From what she said, I understood that she did not have the money for a divorce and in fact only the Emperor could dissolve her marriage, for she was a patrician. But she knew no one in the Palace who was influential enough to be able to put her case before Nero.

“I have experienced the meanness of all men,” she said. “If I turn to a stranger for help he would just make the most of my defenseless position. If only I had a real friend who would be content with my eternal gratitude without offending my modesty.”

The end of the story was that I saw her home from the banquet. Her husband, Crispinus, willingly gave his permission so that he himself could get drunk in peace. They were so poor they did not even have a sedan of their own outside, so I offered Poppaea ours. She hesitated at first but then allowed me to sit by her so that I felt her proximity all the way.

In the end we did not go directly to the Praetorian garrison area, for the night was beautiful and clear and Poppaea was as tired of the smell of sweat in the camp as I was of the stench from the menagerie. From the nearest hillside, we looked across at the view over the lights of the bazaars. In some strange way, we ended up at my house on Av-entine, for Poppaea wished to ask Aunt Laelia something about her poor father. But Aunt Laelia had of course gone to bed and Poppaea could not bring herself to awaken her at that late hour. So we sat together and drank a little wine as we watched the dawn breaking over Palatine. We dreamed of how things might be if she, and I too, were free.

Poppaea leaned trustfully against me and told me she had always longed for pure unselfish friendship, although she had never found it. After I had pleaded with her, she agreed to accept a considerable sum of money as a loan to enable her to start divorce proceedings against Crispinus.

To amuse her, I told her about Nero’s unusual friendliness, his magnanimity to his friends, and his other qualities, for Poppaea was inquisitive in the way women are and had never met Nero herself. I told her ahout Acte, too, about her beauty and good behavior, and about other women Nero knew. I confirmed that Nero had not even consummated his marriage with Octavia yet because of his antipathy to her as Britannicus’ sister and his own former half sister.

Poppaea Sabina knew how to flatter me and she egged me on to tell her more with skillful questions, so that I began to admire her for her intelligence as much as her beauty. It seemed surprising that such a lovely and sensitive woman, who had already borne a son, could still appear unmoved and in the depths of her uncorrupted soul feel deep distaste for the burdens of the court. I admired her even more, and the more unapproachable I imagined she was, the more desirable she became to me.

When we parted at sunrise, just before the sounding of the trumpets, she allowed me a kiss of friendship. When I felt her soft lips melt under mine, I was so captivated that I swore I would do everything in my power to help free her from her worthless marriage.

During the following days, I lived as if in a confused dream. All colors seemed clearer in my sight than before, the night was sofdy dark and I was as if slightly intoxicated, even attempting to write poems. We met in the temple of Minerva and together pretended to look at the paintings and sculpture of Greek masters.

Poppaea Sabina told me that she had had a serious talk with her husband and Crispinus had agreed to a divorce if he received sufficient compensation. With sound common sense, Poppaea explained that it would be wiser to pay Crispinus than waste money on lawyers and mutual accusations which had to be proved and only led to public scandal.

But she was appalled at the very thought of my giving her even more money. She possessed some jewelry of her own which she could sell, although they were valuable family heirlooms. But her freedom was to cost much more.

Poppaea made me feel so ashamed that I forced her to accept a large money order through my banker. Now all that remained was to acquire Nero’s agreement to the dissolution of the marriage. This he could do himself as the pontifex maximus, an office he could exercise whenever he wished to, although he did not do so continuously because it only increased his work in the service of the State with its innumerable religious duties.

I did not want to spoil things by mentioning the matter to Nero myself, for he could then have suspected me of dishonorable intentions. I myself was married according to the longer form and Nero had begun to remark sarcastically that it would be better if I confined myself to the business of the menagerie, which I knew about, and not join in conversations on philosophy and music. This mortified me.

So I thought of Otho, who was Nero’s best friend and who had so much money and influence that he even dared to quarrel with Nero when he felt like it. Otho had a weakness for keeping his face so smooth that he looked quite hairless, and this gave me an opening to mention one day that I knew a woman who used ass’s milk on her delicate skin.

Otho was at once interested and told me that when he had had too much to drink and too many sleepless nights, he bathed his face with bread soaked in milk. I told him in confidence about Poppaea Sabina and her unhappy marriage. He wanted to meet her himself, of course, before taking the matter up with Nero.

So I myself, like a happy fool, took Poppaea to Otho’s magnificent house. Poppaea’s beauty, modesty and lovely complexion made such an impression on him that he willingly promised to be her spokesman, but first he had to be told all the necessary circumstances.

Smiling cheerfully, Otho questioned Poppaea on the intimate details of her marriage. When he noticed that this embarrassed me so much I did not know which way to look, he suggested that I should leave them. This I did gladly, for I realized that Poppaea would prefer to talk alone with a man as experienced and sympathetic as Otho.

Behind locked doors, they talked until late into the afternoon. Finally Poppaea came out to me and took my hand, her eyes shyly lowered and her chin hidden in her veil. Otho thanked me for introducing him to such a delightful woman and promised to do his best about the divorce. Poppaea had red patches on her white throat from the delicate conversation she had endured.

But Otho kept his promise. Nero, in the presence of two judges and with the necessary documents, had the marriage dissolved. Poppaea was allowed to keep her son and a few weeks later Otho quietly married her without even waiting the customary nine months. This was such a stunning blow to me that at first I simply did not believe it. It was as if the sky had fallen around me; all colors faded and I had such a terrible headache that I had to stay shut up in a darkened room for a few days.

When I once again came to my senses, I burned my poems on the household altar, vowing never to write any again, a decision I have adhered to ever since. I realized I could not reproach Otho, for I myself had felt Poppaea’s powers of enchantment. I had just thought that Otho, who was famed for his many love affairs with women and youths, would never have been attracted by such a shy and inexperienced woman as Poppaea. But perhaps Otho wished to change his ways, and Poppaea might become a favorable influence on his dissipated soul.

I received a personal invitation to the wedding from Poppaea, and I sent them the most beautiful set of silver drinking vessels I could find as a wedding present. But at the banquet itself I must have been like a ghost from the underworld and I drank more than I usually did. Finally I remarked to Poppaea, my eyes brimming with tears, that perhaps I too could have had a divorce.

“But why didn’t you say something then?” cried Poppaea. “Though I could not have caused Flavia Sabina such grief. Of course, Otho has his failings. He’s a little effeminate and he drags one foot when he walks, whereas one hardly notices your limp. But he has promised to start a new life and leave the friends who have led him into certain vices. I can’t even tell you about those. Poor Otho is so sensitive and so easily influenced by others. So I hope my influence will make a new man of him.”

“He’s richer than I am too,” I said, without hiding my bitterness. “He is of a’ very ancient family and he’s the Emperor’s closest friend.”

Poppaea stared reproachfully at me.

“Do you think that of me, Minutus?” she whispered, her mouth trembling. “I thought you understood that fame and wealth mean nothing to me if I like another person. I don’t look down on you, even if you are only the superintendent of the menagerie.”

She was so hurt and so beautiful that I relented and begged for her forgiveness.

For a long time, Otho was transformed. He stayed away from Nero’s feasts, and when Nero sent especially for him, he went home early, saying he could not keep his beautiful wife waiting too long. He boasted so much to Nero of Poppaea’s charm and love-making that Nero became more and more inquisitive and began to ask Otho to bring his wife with him to Palatine.

Otho explained, however, that Poppaea was much too shy and proud, and he kept finding other excuses as well. But he was persuaded to tell how not even Venus herself being born from the waves could be more beautiful than Poppaea in her morning bath of ass’s milk. Otho had acquired a whole stable of asses which were milked for her alone.

I was consumed with such black jealousy that I stayed away from all gatherings at which Otho was present. My writer friends teased me about my melancholy and I gradually consoled myself with the thought that if I really loved her, I should only wish her well. Outwardly at least, Poppaea had made the most advantageous match she could have found in Rome.

But my wife Flavia Sabina became more of a stranger to me than ever, and we could no longer meet without quarreling. I began to think quite seriously about a divorce, however hated I might become by the whole of the Flavius family. But I could not even imagine Sabina agreeing. She had let me understand once and for all that I had instilled in her a distaste for the delights of the marriage bed.

On her part, she did not mind that I occasionally slept with an experienced slave-girl, as long as I left her in peace. There was no legal reason for a dissolution of a marriage of our kind, and Sabina became enraged when I once mentioned the subject, mostly from fear that she might lose her beloved animals. Finally I could do nothing but hope that one day she would be torn to pieces by one of her lions as she cowed them with her strong will and forced them to do fantastic tricks, with the help of the lion-tamer Epaphroditus.

Thus the first five years of Nero’s rule went by for me. This was probably the happiest and most flourishing time the world had ever known, or even ever will know, but I felt like a caged animal. I gradually began to neglect my office, gave up riding and put on an excessive amount of weight.

Nevertheless, there was no great difference between me and other young men in Rome. Numerous unkempt long-haired men could be seen on the streets, dripping with sweat, singing and playing on lyres, a new generation in society who despised the rigid old customs. I myself simply felt indifferent to everything, for the best part of my life had already drifted unnoticeably by, although I was not yet thirty.

Then Nero and Otho fell out. To annoy Nero, Otho took Poppaea to Palatine with him one day. Nero naturally fell blindly in love with her and, like a spoiled child, he was used to getting what he wanted. But Poppaea rejected his advances and said that Nero had nothing which Otho could not also offer.

After the meal, Nero had a bottle of his most expensive perfume opened and all the guests were allowed to rub a little of it on themselves. When Nero was later a guest at Otho’s house, Otho had the same perfume sprayed in a mist over all those present.

It was said that Nero, in his morbid love, once had himself taken to Otho’s house in the middle of the night and hammered in vain on the door. Otho would not let him in, because Poppaea thought it was an unsuitable time for a visit. It was even said that Otho, in the presence of several people, had said to Nero, “In me you see the future Emperor.”

Whether he had got this idea from some prophecy or from elsewhere, I do not know. Nero had, however, kept his temper and laughed at him scornfully.

“I can’t even see you as a future consul,” he said.

To my surprise, Poppaea sent for me one lovely spring day when the cherry trees in the Lucullus gardens were in flower. I thought I had managed to forget her, but my indifference was obviously only on the surface for I obeyed her summons immediately, trembling with ardor. Poppaea was more beautiful than ever. Her little son was with her and she behaved as befits a loving mother. She was dressed in a silk gown which revealed rather than hid the entrancing beauty of her figure.

“Oh, Minutus,” she cried, “how I have missed you! You are the only unselfish friend I have. I must have your advice.”

I could not help feeling some distrust, remembering what had happened the last time I had been her adviser. But Poppaea gave me such an innocent smile that I could think no evil of her.

“You must have heard of the fearful difficulty I am in because of Nero,” she said. “I don’t understand how it happened. I myself have not given the slightest cause for it. But Nero is harassing me with his affection, even to the extent that dear Otho is risking falling from grace for protecting my virtue.”

She looked at me attentively. Her gray eyes suddenly turned violet and she had had her golden hair arranged so that she looked like an ivory and gold statue of a goddess. She twisted her slim fingers.

“The most terrible thing is that I cannot be entirely indifferent to Nero,” she said. “He is a handsome man, with his red hair, and his violent feelings only attract me. He is so noble, too, and such an artist when he sings. When I hear him play and sing, I am so entranced that I can only stare at him. If he were unselfish, like you for instance, he would try to protect me from my own feelings and not fan the flame in them. But perhaps he does not himself see what feelings his very presence evokes in me. Minutus, I tremble all over as soon as I see him, as I have never before trembled in the presence of a man. Fortunately, I have been able to hide it and I try to avoid him as far as is possible in my position.”

I do not know if she herself knew how I suffered when she spoke in this manner.

“You’re in great danger, Poppaea dear,” I said in horror. “You must flee. Ask Otho to apply for a proconsulship in one of the provinces. Move away from Rome.”

Poppaea stared at me as if I were mad.

“How could I live anywhere else but in Rome?” she said. “I should die of grief. But there is a much worse and even stranger thing. I shouldn’t even dare tell you if I couldn’t trust your discretion completely. A Jewish soothsayer, and you know how clever they are at that kind of thing, told me a little while ago-don’t laugh now-that one day I’d be the consort of an Emperor.”

“But my dear sweet Poppaea,” I said, “haven’t you read what Cicero says about prophecies? Don’t bother your pretty little head with such madness.”

Poppaea sulked and said sourly, “Why do you say it’s madness? Otho’s family is a very ancient one, and he has many friends in the Senate. In fact Nero can do nothing about the prophecy except by dissolving our marriage. He has his own Octavia, although he swears he’ll never bring himself to sleep with her, so great is his dislike for the poor girl. On the other hand, I cannot understand how a young Emperor can and wants to have a freed slave-girl for his bed companion. It’s so low and despicable in my view that I boil whenever I think about it.”

I was silent and thoughtful.

“What do you really want of me?” I asked finally, somewhat distrustfully.

Poppaea patted my cheek, sighed tremulously and gave me a warm look.

“Oh, Minutus,” she said. “You’re not really very clever, are you? But perhaps that’s why I like you so much. A woman needs a friend to talk to honestly about anything. If you were a real friend, you would go to Nero and tell him everything. He’d be bound to receive you if you tell him you’ve come from me. He’s already so attracted to me that I know he’d listen.”

‘What do you mean by everything?” I asked. “You’ve just said you trust my discretion.”

Poppaea drew my hand to her and pressed it to her hip.

“Tell him he must leave me alone,” she said, “because he makes me so weak. I am only a woman and he is irresistible. But if in my weakness I fell for his seduction, I should have to take my own life to retain my self-respect since I cannot live in dishonor. Tell him that definitely. Tell him about the prophecy, too, for I cannot bear the thought of Otho harming him in any way. In my stupidity, I happened to tell Otho about the prophecy and I regret doing so very much. I had no idea how ambitious he really is.”

I had not the slightest wish to run errands for Poppaea again. But her presence made me powerless and her eager trust in me appealed to my masculine need to protect the weak. True, I was beginning to suspect dimly that Poppaea was not in great need of protection. On the other hand, I thought I could not possibly be mistaken about the shy modesty in her conduct and her lovely gray eyes. She would hardly have leaned so trustfully against me and let me embrace her if she had had the slightest idea what she was arousing in my shameless body.

After searching for a long time, I found Nero in Gaius’ circus exercising his Spanish team by racing at a tremendous speed around the course against the once-exiled Gaius Sophonius Tigellinus, whom he had appointed stablemaster. There were guards at the entrance for form’s sake, but in spite of this quite a few people had gathered in the spectators’ seats to cheer Nero on and applaud him.

I had to wait a long time before Nero, sticky with sweat, finally removed his helmet and had the protective linen bandages taken from his legs. Tigellinus praised him for his rapid progress and criticized him severely for mistakes he had ‘made in the turns and with the side-horses’ reins. Nero listened humbly and accepted the advice. Quite reasonably, he trusted Tigellinus unquestioningly in all matters concerning horses and chariots.

Tigellinus gave way for no one and treated his slaves with great brutality. Tall, muscular, thin-faced, he looked arrogantly around as if conscious that there was nothing in life that could not be overcome by harshness. He had once lost everything he possessed, but as an exile he had made a fortune breeding horses and in fisheries. It was said that no woman or boy was safe in his presence.

When I indicated with grimaces and gestures that my errand was important, Nero allowed me to accompany him to the bathhouse in the garden. When I whispered Poppaea Sabina’s name in his ear, he sent all the others away and as a favor allowed me to scrub his dusty squat body clean with the pumice stone. With lively questions, he managed to extract from me practically everything Poppaea had said.

“Leave her in peace then,” I said solemnly. “That’s all she asks, so that she is not torn by her feelings. She wishes only to be an honorable wife. You yourself know her modesty and innocence.”

Nero burst out laughing, but then turned serious, nodding several times.

“Of course, I’d rather you had come with laurels on your spearhead, messenger,” he said. “I am surprised how well you understand women. But I’ve had enough of their whims. There are other women in the world besides Lollia Poppaea. So I’ll leave her in peace. She herself will have to see that she doesn’t keep bobbing up in front of my eyes as she has done hitherto. Greet her from me and tell her that her conditions are much too demanding.”

“But she hasn’t made any conditions,” I protested in confusion.

Nero looked at me pityingly.

“You’d better go and see to your wild animals and your own wife,” he said. “Send Tigellinus to me to wash my hair.”

So he sent me away. But I could understand him, if he really were so blindly in love with Poppaea and was now disappointed at her refusal. I hurried happily back to tell Poppaea the good news, but to my surprise she was not at all pleased. In fact she smashed a little jar to pieces, so that the expensive ointment splashed on the floor and the scent of it made my head whirl.

Her face was twisted and ugly as she cried, “We’ll see who will win in the end, he or I.”

I well remember the day the following summer when I was stubbornly demanding that the overseer of the aqueduct should have newer and bigger lead pipes taken to the menagerie. For several days we had been having the hot wind which brought red dust and gave me headaches.

There were always disputes over the water supply, for the rich noblemen had their own pipes from the aqueducts to their private baths, gardens and ponds, and because of the increase in population in Rome, there was a great shortage of water. I understood the overseer’s difficult situation. His office was not an enviable one, even if an unprejudiced holder did become rich during his term of office. On the other hand, I considered the menagerie had a special case and that I had no reason to pay him for what in fact were my rights.

We had reached a deadlock. He refused and I demantled. We were finding it difficult even to maintain a formal politeness in the discussion. I should have liked to leave and let the matter drop, but my wife’s anger would have been even more difficult to endure.

“I know the magistrates’ and Senate’s decisions on water supplies by heart,” I said finally. ‘Til have to go to Nero myself, although he doesn’t like being bothered with such little matters as this. I’m afraid it will all end far worse for you than for me.”

The overseer, a dull man, smiled ironically.

“Do as you please,” he said. “In your place, I wouldn’t go annoying Nero by talking about Rome’s water supply just at this moment.”

I had heard no gossip for a long time, so I asked him what was going on.

“Don’t you know, or are you pretending not to know?” he asked incredulously. “Otho has been appointed as Proconsul in Lusitania and has been advised to go there as soon as possible. This morning Nero dissolved his marriage officially, at Otho’s request, of course. All other matters were put aside as Nero was in such a hurry to care for the defenseless Poppaea Sabina, who is moving to Palatine.”

It was like a blow from a club on my already aching head.

“I know Poppaea Sabina,” I cried. “She would never agree to such a thing. Nero has taken her to Palatine by force.”

The overseer shook his gray head.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have a new Agrippina instead of the old one,” he said. “The old one is said to be moving from Antonia’s house in the country to Antium.”

I could not bring myself to take his insinuations seriously. Agrippina’s name was the only thing I really took in. I forgot my thirsty animals and the hippos’ dried-up pool. Agrippina was the only person I thought might save Poppaea Sabina from Nero’s immoral intentions. A mother had to have sufficient influence over her son to prevent his publicly violating the most beautiful woman in Rome. I had to protect Poppaea now she could no longer protect herself.

Beside myself, I hurried to old Antonia’s house on Palatine, where I found them all in such a state of confusion because of the move that no one stopped me from entering. I found Agrippina in a state of icy rage. With her was Octavia, the quiet girl who had had nothing more than the rank of wife from her marriage to the Emperor. Agrippina’s half sister Antonia, beautiful still and Claudius’ daughter by his first marriage, was also there, as was Antonia’s second husband, Faustus Sulla. When I appeared so unexpectedly, they all immediately fell silent, but Agrippina greeted me sharply.

“What a pleasant surprise after so many years,” she said. “I thought you’d forgotten everything I’d done for you and were as ungrateful as my own son. I’m even more pleased that you are the only knight in Rome to come and bid farewell to a poor exiled woman.”

“Perhaps I have neglected our friendship,” I cried in despair, “but we’ve no time for unnecessary talk now. You must save Poppaea Sabina from Nero’s greedy clutches and take her into your protection. Your son is disgracing himself in the eyes of all Rome with this outrage, not just the innocent Poppaea.”

Agrippina stared at me and shook her head.

“I’ve done everything I can,” she said sharply, “even wept and cursed, to save my son from the hands of that lecherous and scheming woman. As a reward I’ve been ordered to leave Rome. Poppaea has had her own way and is holding on to Nero like a leech.”

I tried to assure her that Poppaea wished only that Nero should leave her in peace, but Agrippina laughed scornfully. She believed nothing good of any other woman.

“That woman has driven Nero out of his mind with her debaucheries,” she said. “Nero is inclined that way, although I’ve done everything I could to hide it from other people. But sometimes everything blackens before his eyes and he has to protect his sight. His mad taste for lowly and unsuitable pleasures is evidence of it. But I’ve begun to write my memoirs and I’ll complete them in Antium. I have sacrificed everything for my son, even committed crimes which only he can pardon. It must be told now, since everyone knows anyhow.”

Her eyes glowed strangely and she raised her hands as if warding off a blow. Then she looked at Octavia and stroked her cheek.

“I can see the shadow of death on your face,” she said. “Your cheeks are like ice. But it might all pass if only Nero recovers from this madness. Not even the Emperor can defy the wish of the Senate and the people. No one can trust Nero. He is a terrible hypocrite and a born actor.”

When I looked at Antonia, still beautiful despite her pallor, an unpleasant shadow from the past crossed my mind, and I thought of her half sister Claudia, who had brought shame on my love for her. I think I must have been confused by Agrippina’s mad accusations against Poppaea, for the question slipped unintentionally out of my mouth.

“You spoke of your memoirs,” I said. “Do you remember Claudia? How is she? Has she improved?”

I think Agrippina would have ignored my question had her fury not unbalanced her so.

“You can ask at the naval brothel in Misenum,” she said viciously. “I promised to send your Claudia to a closed house to complete her education. A brothel is the right place for bastards.”

She stared at me like a Medusa.

“You are the most gullible fool I’ve ever met, I think,” she said. “You just opened your mouth and swallowed all that false evidence on her whoring. But for her it was enough that she had become involved with a Roman knight. If I’d known how ungrateful you were going to be, I’d never have gone to so much trouble to prevent her from bringing you unhappiness.”

Antonia laughed loudly.

“Did you really send Claudia to a brothel, dear stepmother?” she said. “I wondered why she suddenly stopped plaguing me to recognize her as my sister and vanished from my sight.”

Antonia’s nostrils quivered. She stroked her soft throat as if to wipe away an invisible insect. There was a strange delicate beauty about her slim figure at that moment.

I was struck completely dumb. Horrified, I looked at these two monstrous women. Suddenly my head felt quite clear and frighteningly large as I understood, and at last believed, all the evil I had heard told of Agrippina over the years.

I also saw that Poppaea Sabina had ruthlessly used my friendship to fulfill her own intentions. All this happened in a second, as if in a vision. It was as if in that moment I had aged several years and had become hardened at the same time. Perhaps I had been unconsciously waiting for this change. It was as if the bars of the cage around me had burst and suddenly I was standing under the free open sky as a free man.

The greatest stupidity of my life had been in talking to Agrippina about Claudia. In some way, I had to make up for that. In some way, I had to begin my life anew from that moment so many years before when Agrippina had poisoned my mind against Claudia and destroyed my love for her. I would be stupid no longer.

Acting with caution, I went to Misenum to look into the possibility of transporting animals from Africa in naval vessels. The commantler of the fleet was Anicetus, a former barber who, during Nero’s boyhood years, had been his first tutor. But the navy is another matter, and

Roman knights have no desire to serve in it. At present the commantler is an author of reference books, called Pliny, who uses warships and sailors to collect rare plants and rocks from different countries. No doubt warships could be put to worse uses, and the sailors at least get about and can enrich the barbarian peoples with their wolf blood.

Anicetus received me respectfully, for I was of noble birth, a knight and the son of a senator. My father’s clients also had much to do with the naval dockyards, and Anicetus received considerable bribes from them. After boasting about his Greek education, his pictures and objets d’art, he became drunk and began to tell indecent stories, thus revealing his own depravity.

“Everyone has his own special vice,” he said. “That’s quite natural and understandable, and nothing to be ashamed of. Chastity is sheer pretense. I planted that truth in Nero’s head long ago. I hate nothing more than people who pretend to be virtuous. What kind do you want? Fat or thin, dark or fair, or do you prefer boys? I can arrange little girls or old women, an acrobat or an untouched virgin. Would you like to watch some whipping or do you like being whipped yourself? Yes, we can arrange a Dionysian mystery according to the book, if you like. Just say the word, give me a sign and I’ll satisfy your secret craving, for our friendship’s sake. This is Misenum, you see, and it’s not far to Baiae, Puteoli and Naples, with all the Alexandrian vices. From Capri we have inherited the god Tiberius’ ingenuity in these matters, and Pompeii has some fine brothels. Shall we row over there?”

I pretended to be shy, but to show myself worthy of his confidence, I said, “I used to think it exciting to disguise myself and go out on night brawls in Subura with your gifted pupil Nero. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such pleasure as that of the most wretched brothels used by slaves. You see, sometimes one tires of delicacies and gets more pleasure from coarse bread and rancid oil. So I am the exact opposite to you. Since I married, I have finished with that sort of thing, but now I feel an intense desire to make the acquaintance of the naval brothels, which I’ve heard you have excellently organized.”

Anicetus grinned rakishly and nodded his understanding.

‘We have three closed houses,” he said, “the best for the officers, the second for the men and the third for the galley slaves. Believe it or not, I am sometimes visited by noble ladies from Baiae who are tired of everything and wish to serve a night in a brothel. The more debauched women especially like the galley slaves, and are better than our most experienced harlots in their willingness to serve. You see, for financial reasons newcomers must first serve the officers, then the men, and after three years the galley slaves. Some survive this strenuous profession for ten years, but I should say five is the average. Some hang themselves, of course, some become ill and useless, and some begin to drink to the extent that they are a disturbance. But we receive constant replenishments from Rome and other Italian cities. The navy’s brothels are penal institutions for women who have been charged with an indecent way of life, such as stealing from customers or hitting rough customers over the head with wine jars.”

“What happens to those who survive their term of serviceI?” I asked.

“A woman has to be very far gone to be no use to the galley slaves,” said Anicetus. “Don’t worry. No one leaves my houses alive. There are always certain men who find their pleasure in occasionally killing a woman in some unpleasant way. They have to be kept in control. The aim of my houses, among other things, is to protect the decent women in the neighborhood from the sailors. On my rolls, for instance, I have a man who once a month has to suck blood from the jugular vein of a woman, and because of this, he is chained to the seat in the ship. The stupid thing is that every time he does it, he regrets it bitterly afterward and asks to be flogged to death.”

I did not believe all Anicetus’ stories. He’ was a braggart and was trying to frighten me with his depravity, because deep down he was a weak and unreliable man. I realized that he had exaggerated a great deal, in the way sailors always do.

At first he took me to a graceful circular temple of Venus which had a wonderful view over the glittering sea, and which was connected by an underground tunnel to the naval barracks to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. The first two walled brothels were no different from their Rome counterparts and even had running water. But the house for the galley slaves was more like a prison and I could hardly endure the looks I received from the inmates, so bestially dulled were they.

I could not find Claudia, however carefully I looked. But I found her next day in a naval fortress in Puteoli. I saw a woman aged beyond her years, whose hair and eyebrows had been shaved off because of lice. She was dressed in a ragged slave tunic, for she was busy working among the fortress’ cooking vessels.

Actually I recognized Claudia only by her eyes. She immediately recognized me, though at first she made no sign. It was a simple matter to exchange her for a bag of silver. I could have had her for nothing if

I had wanted to, but to cover my tracks from the censors, I thought it safer to have an accomplice by bribery.

When we arrived together at the city’s best guesthouse, Claudia spoke for the first time.

“You must have looked for me very eagerly, dear Minutus,” she said harshly, “since you found me so soon. It is only seven years since we last met. What do you want of me?”

She agreed to my request that she should put on some respectable clothes and a wig, as well as draw some kind of eyebrows in with eyeblack. Thanks to her kitchen duties she had put on weight, and there was nothing wrong with her health.

But she would not say a word about her experiences in Misenum. Her hands were as hard as wood, the soles of her feet like leather, and the sun had burned her a dark brown. Despite the clothes and the wig, she could only be taken for a slave. The more I looked at her, the more alien she became.

“Agrippina,” I said finally, in despair. “None other than Agrippina was responsible for your fate. In the foolishness of my youth, I tried to put in a word for you with her. She deceived me.”

“I’m not complaining,” said Claudia sharply. “Everything that happened to me was according to the will of God, to humble my proud body. Do you think I’d still be alive if Christ had not strengthened my heart?”

If the Christians’ superstition had helped her withstand the insults of slavery, I could say nothing. So I cautiously began to tell her about myself. To regain her confidence, I told her of my meeting with Paul and Cephas in Corinth and how my freedman Lausius Hierex had become an influential Christian. Claudia listened with her head resting on her hand, her dark eyes clearing as she became more animated.

“Here in Puteoli,” she said, “we have several brothers among the seamen who have become converted after hearing how Jesus of Nazareth walked on the water. Otherwise I should never have got out of the closed house in Misenum.”

“A seaman’s life is full of danger,” I said. “Puteoli and Naples are said to be the dumping grounds for the East in many respects. So it’s not surprising that the new faith has spread here with the Jews.”

Claudia looked searchingly at me.

“And you, Minutus,” she said. “Do you believe in anything?”

I thought carefully and then shook my head.

“No, Claudia,” I said. “I no longer believe in anything. I am hardened.”

“In that case,” said Claudia decisively, pressing her hard palms together, “I must help you on to the right way. I’m sure it is meant that you have been led to find me and buy my freedom from slavery. After Misenum, slavery was the greatest gift God could send me.”

“I was not led by anyone,” I said irritably. “I began to look for you of my own free will as soon as I heard from Agrippina’s own mouth how she had deceived me.”

Claudia gave me a pitying look.

“Minutus,” she said, “you have no will of your own and you have never had one or everything would be different. I don’t want to leave the Christian assembly in Puteoli, but I realize I must go with you to Rome and persuade you day and night until you humble yourself and become a subject of the secret kingdom of Christ. And don’t look so dismayed. In him lies the only true peace and joy in this soon-to-vanish world.”

I thought Claudia’s hard life had disturbed her mind and did not dare argue with her. We traveled home together to Antium on a merchant ship loaded with wild animals, and from there went on to Ostia. Then I took her secredy to my house on Aventine, where she was given a servant’s position and Aunt Laelia took a liking to her. Aunt Laelia had returned to her childhood in her mind and was happiest when playing with dolls.

But not a single day went by without Claudia nagging at me about Jesus, of Nazareth. I fled from my house to the menagerie, but there Sabina made my life intolerable with her malice. She had become increasingly confident after a relative of hers had become one of the leading men in the State treasury and she was no longer so dependent on my money as before. In practice, it was she who supervised the menagerie, ordered everything and arranged the performances in the amphitheater. She even appeared publicly to demonstrate her skill as a lion-tamer.

I think that Nero’s life began to become almost as intolerable as mine at this time. When he had banished his mother to Antium and openly taken Lollia Poppaea as his lover to Palatine, he had leaped from the frying pan into the fire. People did not like his brusque treatment of Octavia. Poppaea nagged and wept, demanding that he should legally separate from Octavia and frightening him with Agrippina’s secret intrigues, possibly with some justification. In any case, Nero was forced to banish Antonia’s husband, Faustus Sulla, to Massilia. Antonia naturally went with her husband and five years elapsed before I saw her again.

Seneca was definitely opposed to an Imperial divorce, and old Burrus said publicly that if Nero separated from Octavia, then he must also relinquish his. marriage portion or the Emperorship. And Lollia Poppaea had no particular desire to move to Rhodes and live there as the wife of a free artist.

Agrippina perhaps caused her own fate by her lust for power and her jealousy. Behind her she had a fortune she had inherited from her second husband and from Claudius, and in spite of Pallas’ banishment, her influence was still very great. Admittedly, she had no real friends left. But more than a political conspiracy, Nero feared that she would publish the memoirs she was writing herself in Antium, since she did not dare dictate them to even the most trustworthy slave. The knowledge of these memoirs she rashly allowed to spread all over Rome, so that many people who were in one way or another involved in her crimes sincerely wished her dead.

In my thoughts, I accused Agrippina of destroying my life when I was still young and open and in love with Claudia, and I blamed all the evil things that had happened to me on to her. Once I visited old Locusta at her little country place. The old woman smiled at me, inasmuch as a death mask can smile, and told me quite openly that I was not the first person to visit her on the same errand.

On principle, she had no objection to blending poisons for Agrippina too; it was simply a matter of price. But she shook her experienced old head and said she had already used up her ingredients. Agrippina was much too careful, cooking her own food and not even daring to pick fruit from her own trees, as it was so easy to poison. I came to the conclusion that Agrippina’s life was no pleasure to her, even if she was enjoying the revenge of writing her memoirs.

Nero achieved peace of mind and reconciliation with Poppaea the moment he made the final decision to murder his mother. For political reasons, Agrippina’s death became as essential to him as Britannicus’ had become. And Seneca was not heard to raise a murmur in opposition to this murder, although he himself naturally did not wish to be involved in it

Now it was only a question of how the murder could be arranged to appear to be an accident. Nero’s imagination began to work, demanding the maximum of drama, and he consulted eagerly with his closest friends.

Tigellinus, who had certain personal reasons for hating Agrippina, promised to kill her by running her down with his team, if she could be persuaded out onto the open road in Antium. I suggested wild animals, but there was no way of getting them into Agrippina’s carefully guarded garden on her country estate.

Nero thought that I was on his side out of sheer affection for him and Poppaea, and he did not know that I was driven by my own inflexible desire for revenge. Agrippina had earned her death a thousand times over by her crimes, and I thought it perfectly just that she should meet it at the hands of her own son. You too have wolf blood in your veins, Julius, my son, more genuine than mine. Try to keep it under better control than your father has been able to do.

It was through my wife, Sabina, that we eventually found a possible method. A Greek engineer had shown her a small ship which could hold wild animals and which, with the help of an ingenious system of levers, one man could at any time cause to disintegrate, thus releasing the animals.

Sabina had been very attracted by the idea of the newly built marine batde theatre, although finally, because of the cost, I had opposed all marine animals. But Sabina was victorious, and the new discovery aroused such curiosity beforehand that Anicetus came over from Misenum for the day of the performance in Rome.

As a climax to the marine performance, the boat disintegrated into pieces as planned. The crowd was delighted to see bison and lions fighting with sea monsters in the water, or swimming ashore to fall victim to courageous huntsmen. Nero applauded vigorously.

“Can you build me a boat like that,” he cried to Anicetus, “but larger and finer and ornamental enough for the Imperial mother to sail in?”

I promised that Anicetus should see the Greek engineer’s secret drawings, but it occurred to me that such a theatrical arrangement demantled the cooperation of far too many people to be kept a secret

As a reward, Nero invited me to the feast at Baiae in March, where I would be able to see with my own eyes the special performance he had planned. In company, and in the Senate too, Nero had begun to act the part of the repentant son longing for reconciliation with his mother. Disputes and outbreaks of bad temper, he explained, could be overcome if there were sufficient good will on both sides.

Agrippina’s informers naturally immediately took this information back to Antium, so Agrippina was not noticeably surprised or suspicious when she received a beautifully composed letter from Nero containing an invitation to the feast of Minerva in Baiae. The feast was in itself an indication, for Minerva is the goddess of all schoolboys, and a reconciliation far from Rome and the quarrelsome Poppaea seemed quite natural.

Minerva’s day is a day of peace and no blood may be shed and no weapons may be visible. Nero was at first going to send the new pleasure yacht, manned by sailors, to fetch Agrippina from Antium, to show that he intended to return her former rights to his mother. But with the help of a water clock, we calculated that in that case the boat would have to be sunk in daylight, and in addition, Agrippina was so known to be suspicious that she might well refuse the honor and travel overland.

In the end she arrived at the naval base in Misenum in a trireme manned by her own trusted slaves. Nero went to meet her with the whole of his suite and had insisted on Seneca and Burrus being there as well, to emphasize the political significance of the reconciliation.

I could only admire Nero’s extraordinary talent for acting as, moved to tears, he hurried to meet his mother, embraced her and greeted her as the most excellent of all mothers. Agrippina had also done her best to dress well and beautify herself, so that she looked like a slim and, because of the thick layer of paint, quite expressionless goddess.

On Minerva’s day there is an atmosphere of spring gaiety, so the people, who do not understand much of State affairs, greeted Agrippina with jubilant applause as she was carried to her country estate in Bauli, by Lake Locrinus. At the jetties on the lake shore lay a group of beflagged warships, among them the handsomely decorated pleasure yacht. On Nero’s orders, Anicetus placed it at Agrippina’s disposal. But after staying overnight at Bauli, she preferred to be taken back to Baiae, as it is not far and she wished to enjoy the acclaim of the people along the road.

At the official ceremonies in honor of Minerva in Baiae, Nero allowed Agrippina to appear in the foreground and held himself to one side like a shy schoolboy. The city authorities’ midday banquet, with its many speeches and the siesta afterwards, extended the ceremonies so that it was already dark when Nero’s evening banquet began. Seneca and Burrus were also there and Agrippina lay in the place of honor, with Nero sitting at her feet and conversing brightly with her. A great deal of wine was drunk, and when Agrippina noticed it was getting late, Nero’s expression grew serious, and lowering his voice, he began consulting her on State matters.

As far as I could make out, they discussed Lollia Poppaea’s future position. Agrippina was as hard as flint. Taken in by Nero’s humble attitude, she said that all she demantled was that Nero should send Poppaea to Lusitania, back to Otho. After that, Nero could once again rely on Agrippina’s support and mother’s love, for she wished for nothing but good for her son.

Nero managed to produce a few tears of anger but let it be known that his mother was more beloved to him than any other woman in the world, and he even read out a few poems he had written in her honor.

Agrippina was drunk with the wine and her success, for people like to believe what they hope is true. But I noticed that she was still careful not to touch her goblet if Nero had not first drunk from it, and also not to eat any food which Nero or her own friend Acerronia had not tasted from the same dish. I do not think this was suspicion at the time, but a deep-rooted habit which Agrippina had formed over the years.

Anicetus also turned out to be a talented actor, as he anxiously came in to say that the warships used in the display had accidentally collided with Agrippina’s trireme and damaged it to such an extent that it could not return to Antium until it had been repaired. Instead, there was the pleasure yacht with its crew of sailors.

We all went down to the gaily lit harbor with Agrippina. At their parting, Nero kissed her eyes and “breast and supported her as she stumbled aboard. In his well-modulated voice, he bade his mother farewell.

“Keep well, my mother,” he said. “Only through you can I rule.”

To tell the truth, I must say I thought this parting greeting a somewhat exaggerated addition to Nero’s skillful performance. The night was calm and the stars out, and when the boat was rowed out of the circle of harbor lights, Seneca and Burrus retired to their quarters and we conspirators returned to continue the feast.

Nero was silent, then suddenly turned pale and went out to be sick. For a moment we all suspected that Agrippina had succeeded in slipping some poison into his goblet, but then we realized that the long day had been a heavy burden to him. Nero’s sensitive mind could not endure the extended tension of waiting, although Anicetus kept assuring him that the plan could not possibly fail as he had arranged everything so cunningly.

Afterwards I heard what had happened from the naval centurion, Obaritus, to whom Anicetus had entrusted the command of the yacht. Agrippina had at once gone to her beautifully equipped cabin, but she had been unable to sleep. Her suspicions were aroused out on the dark water when she realized that she was exposed to the good will of alien sailors, with only Acerronia and her Procurator, Crepeius Gallus, for company.

Agrippina sent Gallus astern to demand that the boat should set course for Bauli, for she wished to spend the night there and continue on to Antium at daybreak the next morning. Anicetus, remembering that during her exile on the island of Pandataria, Agrippina had supported herself by diving for sponges, had the ship’s disintegration arranged in two different phases.

The first twist of the lever would bring down the lead-weighted deck construction, and then another lever would make the hull itself collapse. But the equipping of the cabin had been entrusted to people who knew nothing of the plan, and for safety’s sake, only a few sailors had been initiated.

Some fool had fitted the cabin with a parade couch with high gables, and when the roof collapsed, the heavy gables protected Agrippina so that she escaped with nothing but a cut on one shoulder. Acerronia was kneeling on the floor, massaging Agrippina’s feet, and was quite unharmed. Gallus was the only one who was killed instandy by the falling roof.

Complete confusion reigned on the ship when the construction on the deck collapsed. Agrippina alone understood what had happened, for the sea was calm and the ship had not collided with anything. She sent Acerronia creeping out on to the deck and ordered her to cry out: “I am Agrippina. Save the Imperial mother!”

At once the centurion ordered the initiated sailors to club her to death with their oars. Then he heaved and wrenched at the other lever, but it had jammed and would not move. Next he tried to capsize the boat. The collapsed roof with its lead weights had already given it a list, so several sailors rushed to the side that was down. But simultaneously other sailors climbed up the other side, so the ship did not capsize. In the middle of all this confusion, Agrippina slipped silently out of the cabin, slid into the water and began to swim toward land. In spite of the wine she had drunk and the wound in her shoulder, she managed to swim under water for long stretches at a time, so no one saw her head against the starlit surface of the water. After swimming out of sight, Agrippina met a fishing boat on its way out. The fishermen pulled her on board and at her request took her to Bauli.

The naval centurion was a cold-blooded man. Otherwise Anicetus would not have chosen him for the task. When he saw that the dead woman was Acerronia and that Agrippina had vanished, he had the wrecked yacht rowed back to Baiae to report his failure immediately to Anicetus. As he hurried up to Nero’s quarters, the uninitiated sailors spread the disturbing news of the accident all over the city.

The people of Baiae rushed down to the quays, waded out and set sail in their fishing boats to save Agrippina. When the confusion was at its height, Agrippina’s real rescuers, whom she had richly rewarded, returned and told everybody that the Imperial mother was safe and had only slight injuries. The crowd then decided to go to Bauli in a procession of homage to congratulate Agrippina on her miraculous escape from the perils of the sea.

Nero, tense but unsuspecting and surrounded by his faithful friends, half tearfully, half jokingly, was preparing to grieve for his mother’s death. He planned mourning feasts all over the Empire and prepared a statement to the people of Rome and the Senate.

With a twinge of conscience, he asked me if he could suggest that Agrippina should be exalted as a goddess, for she was, after all, the daughter of the great Germanicus, sister of Emperor Gaius, widow of Emperor Claudius and mother of Emperor Nero, and as such, in fact, a woman of much higher standing than Livia in the history of Rome. We all behaved horribly foolishly and had already jestingly begun to nominate one another as members of the priesthood of the new “goddess.

In the middle of all this cheerfulness, in rushed the naval centurion Obaritus with the message that the ship had only half capsized and that Agrippina had vanished without a trace. The hope that she had been drowned was at once dispelled when the fishermen arrived at the head of a jubilant crowd, to say that Agrippina had been saved. They had seen the lights in the banqueting room and hoped that Nero would reward them. But Nero panicked and sent for Seneca and Burrus, like a schoolboy who has been caught at some prank and turns weeping to his teachers.

I had the presence of mind to order Anicetus to arrest the fishermen at once and shut them up in a safe place while they awaited their reward so that they did not spread rumors which would worsen the situation. Fortunately for Nero, Agrippina obviously had not revealed her suspicions to them as they so innocently chattered on about the rescue.

Seneca and Burrus arrived at the same time, Seneca barefooted and in only a tunic. Nero behaved like a madman, rushing about the room. Anicetus swiftly gave an account of what had happened, and guilt-stricken, Nero was seriously frightened for his own life. His lively imagination made him cry out aloud of what he feared might happen; that Agrippina might be arming her slaves or rousing the soldiers at the garrison against him, or on her way to Rome to complain to the Senate about his attempt to murder her, exhibiting her injuries and telling them of her servant’s cruel death.

Seneca and Burrus were both experienced statesmen and did not need many explanations. Seneca contented himself with looking inquiringly at Burrus. Burrus shrugged his shoulders.

“I shouldn’t send the Praetorians or Germans from the Life Guards to kill the daughter of Germanicus,” he said.

With a grimace of distaste, he turned and looked at Anicetus.

“Let Anicetus complete what he has undertaken,” he suggested. “I wash my hands of the whole affair.”

Anicetus needed no second bidding. With complete justification he feared for his own life, for Nero, in his anger, had already struck him in the face with his fist. He now promised eagerly to complete his task with the help of his sailors. Nero stared at Seneca and Burrus with restless eyes.

“Not until this night will I be rid of my guardianship,” he cried reproachfully, “and receive the right to rule. But it is to be given to me by a former barber, a freed slave, not by Seneca the Statesman or General Burrus. Go, Anicetus, hurry, and take with you everyone who is willing to do this service for his Emperor.”

Then he turned pale and backed away as one of Agrippina’s freedmen, Agerinus, was announced as seeking audience with him with a message from Agrippina.

“An assassin,” he cried, snatching up a sword and hiding it under his mantle.

In fact he had nothing to fear, for Agrippina, exhausted by her swim and loss of blood, had weighed the possibilities and realized that she would have to put a good face on it and pretend to be quite ignorant of the attempt to murder her. So Agerinus entered trembling, and, stammering slightly, gave Agrippina’s message.

“The goodness of the gods and the guardian spirit of the Emperor have saved me from accidental death. Although you will be dismayed to hear of the danger that has threatened me, do not for the time being come to see your mother. I need rest.”

When Nero saw that he had nothing to fear from Agerinus, he came to his senses, let the sword fall at Agerinus’ feet, and then started back, pointing accusingly at the sword and crying out dramatically, “I call on you all to witness that my own mother has sent her freedman to murder me.”

We hurried up and seized Agerinus, ignoring his protests. Nero ordered him imprisoned, but Anicetus considered it wisest to cut his throat as soon as they were outside the door. So Anicetus had tasted blood, but I thought I ought to go with him, to see that he fulfilled his task. Nero hurried out after us and slipped on the blood running from Agerinus’ body.

“My mother sought my life,” he said with relief. “No one will suspect anything if she herself should take her own life when her crime was exposed. Act accordingly.”.

Obaritus, the naval centurion, came with us, for he wished to atone for his failure. Anicetus had his second-in-command, Herculeius, sound the alarm in the naval barracks and we managed to get hold of some horses. A number of soldiers came with us, running barefooted, and, with shouts and swinging weapons, they managed to disperse the crowds which were on their way to Bauli to congratulate Agrippina.

When we reached Bauli, dawn was just breaking as Anicetus ordered his men to surround the house. We broke down the door and chased away the slaves, who tried to resist us. The bedroom was dimly lit, and Agrippina was lying in bed, her shoulder swathed in warm wrappings. The servant girl with her fled and Agrippina raised her hand, calling after her in vain: “Are you forsaking me too?”

Anicetus shut the door behind us so that there should not be too many spectators, and Agrippina greeted us in a weak voice. “If you have come to ask after my health,” she said, “then tell my son that I am already a little better.”

Then she saw our weapons and her voice became firmer. “If you have come to kill me, then I do not believe it is on my son’s orders. He would never agree to matricide.”

Anicetus, Herculeius and Obaritus surrounded the bed a little awkwardly, not knowing how to begin, for Agrippina looked so majestic even on her sickbed. I stood with my back against the door, keeping it shut. Finally Herculeius struck Agrippina a blow on the head, but so clumsily that she did not lose consciousness. They had intended to knock her unconscious and then open her veins, so that the suicide statement would bear some resemblance to the truth.

Agrippina now abandoned all hope, exposed the lower part of her body, spread her knees and screamed at Anicetus, “Cut up the womb that brought Nero into the world.”

The naval centurion drew his sword and took her at her word. Then they all slashed and thrust at her so that Agrippina received many wounds before she finally drew her last rattling breath.

When we were convinced that she was dead, we each took some small thing as a souvenir from her bedroom while Anicetus ordered the servants to wash the body and arrange it for the pyre. I took a little gold statuette of Fortuna which was standing by the bed, in the belief that it was the one that Emperor Gaius in his day had always carried with him. Later it turned out that it was not the same one and I was extremely disappointed.

A messenger rode swiftly off to Nero to inform him that his mother had committed suicide. Nero hurried straight to Bauli, for with Seneca’s help he had already sent a message to the Senate informing them of the attempt to murder him, and he wished to see with his own eyes that Agrippina really was dead.

Nero arrived so swiftly that the servants were still busy washing and oiling Agrippina’s naked body. Nero stepped up to his mother, felt the wounds with his finger, and said, “See how beautiful my mother is even in death.”

Wood was piled up in the garden and Agrippina’s body was unceremoniously lifted onto a couch from the dining room and placed on the pyre. When the smoke began to billow upward, I suddenly noticed what a beautiful morning it was in Bauli. The sea was a shimmering blue, the birds were singing and all the spring flowers were in bloom in a riot of color in the garden. But there was not a soul to be seen on the roads. The people were confused and had hidden themselves indoors, for no one now knew what had really happened.

While the pyre was still burning, a troop of tribunes and centurions came galloping up. When Nero heard the sound of the horses’ hoofs and saw the line of marines give way before the horses, he looked around for an escape route. But the riders flung themselves out of their saddles and hurried up to press his hand in turn with cries of thanksgiving that he had escaped his mother’s criminal intentions.

The riders had been sent by Prefect Burrus to show the people what the situation was, but he himself had not come, for he was too ashamed. When Agrippina’s remains had been hastily gathered together from the ashes and buried in the garden, the earth was smoothed over the grave. Nero gave his mother no burial mound, in order that it should not become the object of political pilgrimages.

We plucked up courage and went up to the temple in Bauli to take a thank-offering to the gods for Nero’s miraculous escape. But in the temple, Nero began to hear bugle blasts and accusing cries in his ears. He said that the day darkened before his eyes too, although the sun was shining brightly.

Agrippina’s death did not really come as a surprise to the Senate in Rome or the people, for they were prepared for some shattering event. The night Agrippina died, tremendous thunderstorms had raged over the city despite the time of year, and lightning had struck in fourteen different sections of the city, so the Senate had already decided on the customary expiatory sacrifices. When the death announcement arrived, they did not change them to offers of thanksgiving. The suppressed hatred for Agrippina was so great that the Senate decided to put her birthday on the list of days which brought misfortune.

Nero had feared disturbances quite without reason. When he finally arrived in Rome from Naples, he was welcomed as if he were celebrating a triumph. The senators were dressed as if for a feast and the women and children greeted him with songs of praise, strewing spring flowers in his path from the seats which had been hastily constructed on either side of the route.

When Nero went up to the Capitoline to discharge his own thank-offering it was as if all of Rome had rid itself of a hideous nightmare. On this lovely spring day, the people were only too glad to believe Seneca’s false account of Agrippina’s suicide. The very thought of matricide was so terrible to the older people that no one wished even to think about it.

I had hurried on ahead to Rome, straight to Claudia, trembling with pride.

“Claudia,” I cried. “I have avenged you. Agrippina is dead and I myself was involved. Her own son gave the order that she was to be killed. By Hercules, I have paid my debt to you. You need no longer grieve over the degradation you have been made to suffer.”

I handed her the little Fortuna statuette which I had taken from

Agrippina’s bedside table, but Claudia stared at me as if I were a monster and raised both hands as if fending me off.

“I have never asked you to avenge me,” she said in horror. “Your hands are bloody, Minutus.”

I did in fact still have a bloodstained bandage on one hand, so I hastened to assure her that I had not sullied my own hands with Agrippina’s blood, but had only cut my thumb on my own sword in my haste. But this did not help. Claudia began to scold me, calling for the judgment of Jesus of Nazareth to fall on me, and in every way behaving foolishly, so that finally I could do nothing but shout back angrily in reply.

“If it is as you say, then I have only been a tool of your god,” I said. “You can regard Agrippina’s death as a punishment by your Christ for her crimes. And the Jews are the most vindictive people in the world. I’ve read that in their holy books. You are wasting your tears, weeping over Agrippina’s death.”

“Some people have ears and hear nothing,” she replied angrily. “Minutus, haven’t you really understood a single word of what I’ve been trying to teach you?”

“You’re the most ungrateful woman in the world, curse you, Claudia,” I said furiously. “I’ve tolerated your chatter about Christ up to now, but I owe you nothing more. Hold your tongue and leave my house.”

“Christ forgive my violent temper,” mumbled Claudia between her clenched teeth, “but I can no longer control myself.”

She slapped me across both cheeks with her hard hands so that my ears sang, then grasped me by the back of my neck and forced me to my knees, although I am taller than she is.

“Now, Minutus,” she commantled, “you’ll pray to the heavenly father for forgiveness for your terrible sin.”

My self-respect did not permit me to struggle with her and anyhow, she was unusually strong at that time. I crawled out of the room on all fours and Claudia flung the gold statuette after me. When I rose to my feet again, I shouted for the servants, my voice shaking with rage, and ordered them to collect Claudia’s possessions and put them outside the door. I picked up the Fortuna idol, the left wing of which was now bent, and went to the menagerie so that at least I could boast to Sabina of what I had done.

To my surprise, Sabina was friendly and even patted my cheeks, which were rather inflamed from Claudia’s blows. She accepted the statuette gratefully and listened willingly, if somewhat absentmindedly, to my account from Baiae and Bauli.

“You’re a man and braver than I thought, Minutus,” said Sabina. “But you mustn’t boast to too many people about what happened. The main thing is that Agrippina is dead. No one will mourn her. That harlot Poppaea, too, has received her due. After this, Nero would never dare divorce Octavia. That much I do know about politics.”

I was surprised at this statement, but Sabina put her hand over my mouth.

“It is spring, Minutus,” she whispered. “The birds are singing and the lions are roaring so that the ground shakes beneath them. I feel a longing and my limbs are on fire, Minutus. And I’ve seriously come to the conclusion that we should have a child, for the sake of both the Flavius family and yours. I don’t think I am a barren woman, although you so hurtfully keep away from my bed.”

Her accusation was unjust, but perhaps her opinion of me had been changed because of what I had done, or perhaps the terrible deed had affected her as a woman, for some women are sexually excited by things like fires and blood running into the sand.

I looked at my wife and there was nothing wrong with her, although her skin was not as white as Lollia Poppaea’s. We slept together for two nights, which we had not done for a long time, but the ecstasy I had felt at the beginning of our married life did not return. Sabina was like wood too, and finally she admitted she had done her duty more for her family than for pleasure, despite the dull roar of the lions through the nights.

Our son was born eight months later. I was afraid we should have to put him out, as is done with prematurely born children. But he was quite healthy and well developed, and the successful birth caused great jubilation in the menagerie. I invited our hundreds of employees to a feast in honor of my firstborn, and could hardly believe the crude animal trainers capable of such tenderness to a newborn child.

We could hardly get rid of the dark-skinned Epaphroditus, who kept pushing forward to pat the child, neglecting the animals’ feeding and insisting on paying for a wet-nurse for the child himself. I agreed to this in the end, as I regarded the offer as an act of homage.

But I could not rid myself of Claudia. When I unsuspectingly returned home to my house on Aventine a few days later, I found all my servants, even Barbus, gathered in the reception room while on my seat of honor in the middle sat the Jewish miracle worker Cephas, with several youths who were quite unknown to me.

One of them was translating Cephas’ Aramaic stories into Latin. Aunt Laelia was dancing about with delight, clapping her gnarled old hands. I was so angry I was about to have all my servants flogged, but Claudia hurriedly explained that Cephas was under the protection of Senator Pudeus Publicolus and was living in his house, away from the Jews on the other side of the river, so as not to cause any more disturbances between Jews and Christians. Pudeus was a silly old man but he was also a Valerian, so I was forced to hold my tongue.

Cephas remembered our meeting in Corinth very well and addressed me by name in a friendly way. He did not demand that I should believe, but I saw that he wished me to be reconciled with Claudia and to put up with her in my house. Somehow this is what finally happened, and to my own surprise I shook hands with Claudia, kissed her, yes, and even joined in their meal since I was, after all, master in my own house.

I do not wish to say any more of this shameful event. Afterwards I asked Barbus sarcastically if he had abandoned Mithras and become a Christian. Barbus did not reply directly but just muttered, “I am old. Rheumatism from my war years torments me so terribly that I will do anything to avoid the pains. And I only have to look at this former fisherman for them to go away. When I’ve eaten of his bread and drunk of his wine, I feel well for several days at a time. The Mithras priests could not cure me although no one knows more than they about legionaries’ rheumatism.”