The Secret of the Kingdom

Book XII

The Informer

On the evening before the feast of Ceres, after close consultation with Antonius Natalis, and after the rest of us had already left Piso’s house, Flavius Scevinus went home and gloomily began to dictate his will. As he dictated, he drew his famous lucky dagger from its sheath and noticed that the battered weapon was much too blunt from sheer age. He gave it to his freedman Milichus to sharpen and told him with frighten-ingly confused words and large gestures to keep quiet about the matter, thus arousing Milichus’ suspicions.

Scevinus, against his usual habit, then ordered a festive meal for his entire household, during which he freed several of his slaves, weeping gently with artificial gaiety, and distributed gifts of money to the others. After the meal he broke down and in tears asked Milichus to prepare bandages and medicine to stem the flow of blood. This finally convinced Milichus that something evil was afoot. Perhaps he had already heard mention of the conspiracy, for who had not?

For safety’s sake he asked his wife’s advice. Like a sensible woman, she convinced him that the first to come to the mill is the first to have his corn ground. This was a matter of his own life. Several other freedmen and slaves had heard and seen the same as he had, so there was no point in keeping silent. Indeed, Milichus had every reason to hasten to be the first informer. At that moment it was not necessary to think of his conscience, his master’s life and his debt of gratitude for his freedom. The rich reward to come would gradually extinguish all such thoughts.

Milichus found it difficult to leave the house, for Scevinus could not go to sleep, however much he had drunk. Scevinus’ wife, Atria Gallia, famed for her beauty, divorces and frivolous life, and inflamed by the festive meal, also made demands on Milichus which Milichus’ wife was forced to overlook, and with which Scevinus for private reasons felt he could not interfere. I imagine that this was an important factor in the advice Milichus’ wife gave her husband. I have pointed this out to excuse her.

Not until dawn did Milichus have time to go to Servilius’ gardens with the dagger of Fortuna hidden under his cloak as material evidence. But the guards naturally did not even let this freed slave in and least of all were they going to allow him to meet Nero early in the morning before the feast of Ceres. At that moment Epaphroditus happened to arrive at the Palace with a couple of leopard cubs which he had orders to deliver to Nero in good time. Nero was to present them to Consul Vestinus’ wife, Statilia Messalina, to whom he happened to be paying court, so that during the races she would be able to parade these beautiful pets in the Consuls’ box. Epaphroditus noticed the argument at the gate and hurried over to calm the guards, who were beating Milichus with the shafts of their lances to make him be quiet, for when he had not been let in, Milichus had desperately begun to call to Nero at the top of his voice.

I wonder whether Fortuna has ever before or since shown me her face more clearly. I was allowed to see more clearly than ever that magnanimity and generosity can be rewarded in this life. Epaphroditus recognized Milichus as the freedman of Flavius Scevinus, who was a relative of his wife Sabina’s, and so he helped him. When Milichus had related his errand, Epaphroditus at once understood the significance of what he had heard. Remembering his debt of gratitude to me, he at once sent the slave who had been leading the leopards to tell me what was going on. After he had done that, he had Nero awakened and took the leopard cubs and Milichus straight to Nero’s enormous bed.

Epaphroditus’ slave woke me from my deepest sleep and his message soon brought me to my feet. I threw a cloak over myself, and unshaven and without food, ran back to Servilius’ gardens with him.

The running left me so out of breath that I firmly decided to take up physical cxcrcises at the stadium again and to begin to ride regularly, should my life by some lucky chance be spared. As I ran, I was also forced to evaluate the whole situation rapidly and think out which people it would be most advantageous for me to denounce.

When I arrived at the Palace, Nero was still in a bad temper over his sudden awakening, although he should have been up already because of the feast of Ceres. Yawning, he played with the leopard cubs in his great silken bed and in his vanity refused at first to believe the stammering freedman’s despairing explanations. Nevertheless he had had a message sent to Tigellinus asking to speak to Epicharis again, and the Praetorians were on their way to arrest Flavius Scevinus and bring him before Nero to explain his suspicious behavior. After chattering about the will and the bandages, Milichus remembered that his wife had exhorted him to tell of their master’s long conversation with Piso’s confidant, Natalis. But Nero waved his hand impatiently. “Natalis can come and explain the matter himself,” he said. “But I must start dressing soon for the Ceres feast.”

Despite his apparent indifference, he felt the tip of the bronze ver-digrised dagger with his thumb and probably experienced in his lively imagination what it would feel like to have it suddenly plunged into his muscular chest. So he was more benevolent toward me when I arrived, panting and wiping the sweat from my forehead, to explain that I had something so important to tell him that it could not brook a moment’s delay.

I swiftly told him of the conspirators’ plan to murder him and unhesitatingly named Piso and his collaborator Lateranus as the leaders. Nothing could save them any longer anyhow. All the time, I was standing as if on red hot ambers at the thought of what Epicharis would say to escape further torture, now that the conspiracy was exposed anyhow.

The leopard cubs gave me the fortunate idea of denouncing Consul Vestinus, with the thought of Nero’s interest in Vestinus’ wife in mind. Actually we had not bothered to take Vestinus into the conspiracy at all because of his republican views. At this Nero grew serious. That a serving Consul should be involved in a conspiracy and a murder plot was serious enough. He began to chew his lips and his chin began to tremble like a sorrowing child’s, so certain had he been of his popularity among the people.

On the whole I denounced members of the Senate from preference, for it was my filial duty to avenge my father’s fate since the Senate had unanimously, without even voting on it, condemned him to death, and as a result my own son Jucundus had also lost his life to the wild animals. Clearly I owed the senators nothing. And for my own plans it would be best that a few places in the Senate should be vacant.

After listing a few names, I made a swift decision and denounced Seneca as well. He himself had openly admitted that his life depended on Piso’s safety, so nothing could have saved him either. It was counted to my credit that I was the first to inform on such a powerful man. Naturally I did not mention my visit to Seneca’s house.

At first Nero seemed unwilling to believe me. Nevertheless he skillfully registered horror and astonishment at such cruel treachery on the part of his old tutor, who had only Nero to thank for his great wealth and his success in office. Seneca had left his position in the government of his own accord and thus had no reason to bear Nero a grudge. Nero even wept a few tears and flung the leopards to the floor as he despairingly asked why he was so hated despite doing everything he could for the people and the Senate of Rome, sacrificing his own comfort to carry the heavy burden of Imperial duties.

“Why didn’t they say something to me?” he complained. “I’ve said innumerable times that I should prefer to be relieved of power, since I can support myself as an artist anywhere in the world. Why do they hate me so?”

It would have been both pointless and dangerous to begin to explain to him. Fortunately Tigellinus and Flavius Scevinus arrived at that moment and it was announced that Epicharis was waiting in her sedan in the garden.

Nero thought it wisest to pretend at first to be ignorant of the true scope of the conspiracy. He wished to question Flavius Scevinus and Milichus in each other’s presence. He asked me to leave and I was glad to go, for in that way I was given an opportunity to warn Epicharis and agree on whom else to denounce. As I left, I noticed that Nero called in his German guards with a malicious glance at Tigellinus.

The memory of Sejanus’ conspiracy against Tiberius still remains and since then no Emperor has relied blindly on the Praetorian Prefect. So there are usually two of them, to keep an eye on each other. Nero had restored this security measure when he had recently appointed Fenius Rufus as Tigellinus’ colleague, but he had chosen the wrong person. However, I had no thought of denouncing Fenius Rufus, who was my friend. Indeed, I decided to do all I could to keep his name from being dragged in by mistake. I wanted to talk to Epicharis about this, too.

Her sedan was standing on the ground with the curtains carefully drawn and the slaves resting on the grass, but both the guards refused to let me see the prisoner. Nero’s new coins, however, served a purpose. The guards withdrew and I drew back the curtain.

“Epicharis,” I whispered. “I am your friend. I’ve something important to tell you.”

But Epicharis did not reply. Then I saw that during her journey she had loosened her bloodstained bandage, which some kindly guard had given her, tied a noose around her neck and fastened the other end to a crossbar on the sedan. Thus with the help of her own weight, and weakened by torture, she had managed to strangle herself, no doubt because she feared that she would be unable to endure yet another interrogation. When I had made certain she was dead, I cried out to the guards in surprise and showed them what had happened. Inwardly I praised this anything but respectable woman for her nobility. By committing suicide, she had saved herself from informing on her fellow criminals and had given me a free hand.

The guards were naturally frightened of being punished for dieir carelessness. But there was no time for such things. Nero had begun to act and did not want to be bothered with insignificant details. Epicharis’ suicide finally convinced him of the conspiracy and the fleet’s part in it. For my part, I must admit that the sight of Epicharis’ lacerated breasts and limbs made me feel so sick that I vomited on the grass by the sedan, although I had eaten nothing that morning.

Of course this was also because of my sudden fright and equally sudden relief at this noble woman’s courage. With her death, she gave me a key position in the exposure of the conspiracy. Out of sheer gratitude I had her buried at my expense when her former friends, for understandable reasons, could not do so. Indeed, they were soon in need of burial themselves.

As Nero was cleverly questioning Scevinus, the latter regained control of himself, and manfully looking Nero straight in the eye, assured him of his innocence. For a moment Nero vacillated in his suspicions.

“That dagger,” said Scevinus contemptuously, “has always been a sacred hereditary gift in my family and it normally lies about in my bedroom. This wretched slave, who has spat in my bed and now fears his punishment, took it away secretly. I have rewritten my will many times, as every sensible person does when circumstances change. Nor is it the first time I’ve freed slaves, as Milichus himself bears witness. I have also given money away before. Last night I was more generous than usual because I was rather drunk, and because of my debts, I thought my creditors would not approve all the clauses in the old will. So I thought I would change it. The talk about bandages is some sort of crazy invention of Milichus’. I should be accusing him here, not he me. You’ll soon find out why that cursed slave is afraid of me if you question my wife for a while. For the sake of my reputation, I haven’t wished to expose their insult to my marriage bed. If it has come to the point where I, an innocent man, am accused of plotting murder, then it’s time to speak out.”

He made a mistake by talking about his debts. Nero drew the correct conclusion that Scevinus had nothing to lose and everything to gain by the conspiracy if he stood on the verge of bankruptcy. So he questioned Scevinus and Natalis separately on what they had discussed for so long the previous evening. Naturally they had quite different stories to tell, for neither of them had thought of preparing for interrogation.

Tigellinus had them shown the iron collar, the metal claws and other instruments of torture, and did not even have to touch them. Natalis was the first to break down and he knew most of what there was to tell about the conspiracy and hoped to gain something by voluntarily confessing. He denounced his dear Piso and several others, also mentioning his connection with Seneca. I was thankful for my good fortune in having been able to denounce Seneca before him.

When Scevinus heard that Natalis had confessed, he abandoned his vain hopes, revealed his own part, and among others, denounced Sene-cio, Lucanus, Petronius and unfortunately also myself. In this case it was relatively simple for me to say that I had taken part in the meeting of the day before only to acquire definite information about the conspiracy to be able to save the Emperor’s life by pretending to support Piso.

From caution I had not insisted on contributing to the sums collected for the Praetorians, so I could freely inform on those who had put up the thirty million. Nero was pleased to have so easily acquired such an addition to his meager treasury, although later he gathered in a hundred times that sum by confiscating the property of the culprits. Seneca and Pallas alone contributed at least a thousand million sesterces I believe.

For the sake of his reputation, Nero did not wish the people to know how widespread the conspiracy truly was or how bitterly he was hated by the aristocracy, for they might think they had reason for such hatred. And Nero’s private life could not stand up to any closer scrutiny.

To disperse the rumors, he later thought it as well to marry Statilia Messalina, who was, after all, a Julian and thus much more aristocratic than Poppaea. Both she and Nero were very grateful to me when I quite by chance gave Nero an opportunity to be rid of her husband, Consul Vestinus. Nero had long shown an interest in her, but Statilia Messalina had thought she stood no chance against Antonia. The whole city knew that Nero had proposed to Antonia for political reasons, and most reasonable people thought that Antonia would gradually give in, although for reasons of decency she had to reject him at first.

When Nero realized the size of the conspiracy, he at first thought of canceling the whole of the feast of Ceres, but Tigellinus and I persuaded him that it would be unwise. It would be better to occupy the city, and Ostia too because of the fleet, while the people were watching the races. It would be easy to arrest all the senators and knights involved at the circus without attracting attention, before they had time to flee the city and seek shelter with the legions.

Piso must be arrested at once. Dazzled by his own ambitions, he had already gone to wait outside the temple of Ceres with his escort. There he heard of Milichus’ denouncement and about the arrest of Scevinus and Natalis. He hurriedly turned back, although the bravest in his following demantled that he should go to the Praetorian camp at once with his money, or at least speak in the forum and call the people to his aid.

Swift action might even then have tipped the scales of Fortuna in his favor. Fenius Rufus was still at the camp, with Tigellinus temporarily out of the way, and several tribunes and centurions were in on the conspiracy. Even if the soldiers betrayed him and the people abandoned him, he would at least have died honorably in a bold attempt, showing himself worthy of his ancestors and winning a reputation for fighting for freedom and posterity.

But Piso was useless for the task allotted to him, as I have already explained. After a moment’s indecisive hesitation he simply went home. Seeing this, his friends went off in different directions to try to save what was left to save.

Lateranus’ house was the only one in which anyone put up any real resistance. As a result, Lateranus was dragged to the slaves’ execution place despite his rank of Consul. Tribune Statius hacked his head off with such haste that he injured his own hand. But Lateranus was the only conspirator to hold his tongue, not even revealing that Statius himself was involved in the conspiracy. Hence the latter’s haste.

Everyone talked willingly and denounced others before his own death, the poet Lucanus even denouncing his mother, and Junius Gallio, my former friend from Corinth, his own brother Seneca. At the next meeting of the Senate, Gallio was openly accused of fratricide and it was said that he was even more involved than Seneca, but Nero pretended not to hear. Lucanus’s mother was also left in peace, although she had always spoken ill of Nero and called him that shameless cittern-player in order to enhance her son’s reputation as a poet.

It would take far too long to list all the important people who either were executed or commited suicide, although Nero showed leniency by limiting the number of prosecutions. But he was no more than human and it would have been too much to ask that in choosing those to be prosecuted he should not pay attention to earlier affronts and his constant need for money.

The city was full of corpses. Of these brave men I shall mention only Subrius Flavus. When Nero asked him how he had been able to forget his military oath, he replied openly, “You had no more faithful soldier than I as long as you were worthy of my love. I began to hate you when you murdered your mother and your wife and appeared as a charioteer, clown and fire-raiser.”

Understandably angered by such outspokenness, Nero ordered a Negro whom he had promoted to centurion to take Subrius to the nearest field and do what had to be done. The Negro obeyed the order and hurriedly had a grave dug in the field. Flavus saw that the grave was much too shallow and remarked mockingly to the soldiers who were laughing around him, “That black can’t even dig a regulation grave.” The Negro centurion was so frightened by Subrius Flavus’ noble origins that his hand shook when Flavus boldly stretched out his neck, and he only just managed to sever the head from the body with two strokes.

Fenius Rufus survived until quite a late stage, but in the end it began to annoy those being interrogated that he should appear as their judge. He was denounced by so many people that Nero had to believe them, although as prosecutor Fenius Rufus had tried to show sternness in order to escape suspicion himself. On Nero’s orders he was knocked down in the middle of an interrogation and tied up by a powerful soldier. He lost his life like the others, to my great sorrow for we were good friends, and a much more selfish man became superintendent of the State grain stores after him. But he had only his own weakness to thank, since he had had an excellent opportunity to intervene in the course of events.

Seneca had come to the Ceres feast when he heard what had happened and he stayed in a house he owned within the city near the fourth milestone. Nero sent tribune Gavius Silvanus from his own lifeguard to ask Seneca what he had to say in his defense with reference to Natalis’ confession. Silvanus had the house surrounded and stepped indoors just as Seneca and his wife and a couple of friends, in a somewhat tense atmosphere, were about to have a meal.

Seneca calmly went on with his meal, replying as if in passing that Natalis had visited him as an envoy from Piso to complain that he had not replied to any of Piso’s invitations. Seneca had then referred politely to his health; he had no reason to begin supporting someone at his own expense. Silvanus had to be content with that answer.

When Nero asked whether Seneca had made any preparations to end his life voluntarily, Silvanus had to admit that he had not been able to detect any signs of fear in him. Nero was forced to send Silvanus back to Seneca to say that he must die. It was a distasteful order for Nero. For the sake of his own reputation he would have preferred his old tutor to have chosen his own way out.

To show how Nero’s life still stood in the balance, it must be said that Silvanus went straight to Fenius Rufus in the Praetorian camp after receiving this order, told him about it and asked whether it should be obeyed. Silvanus himself was one of the conspirators. Rufus still might have proclaimed Seneca Emperor, bribed the Praetorians and resorted to armed uprising had he considered that he himself, because of his position, was unable to murder Nero.

Afterwards I thought about his various possible courses of action. The Praetorians would hardly have been all that pleased to set up a philosopher on the throne in place of a cittern-player, but they loathed Tigellinus and would probably have assisted in his downfall because of his ruthless discipline. Everyone knew about Seneca’s immense wealth and they would have been able to push up the bribes quite high.

Rufus had yet another reason for supporting Seneca. He was originally of Jewish descent, hailing from Jerusalem, but he had tried to keep his origins secret because of his high office. His father was a freedman, who in his time had been a grain merchant in Cyrene and who, when his son moved to Rome, had used his money to persuade the Fenians to adopt him. Rufus had received an excellent Jewish upbringing and had been successful, thanks to his talents and his business skill.

I do not know why his father, Simon, had wished his son to be a Roman, but I am quite certain that Fenius Rufus was in sympathy with the Christians. My father had once told me that Rufus’ father had had to carry Jesus of Nazareth’s cross to the execution place in Jerusalem, but I did not remember that then. In his confused letters from Jerusalem, I also found Simon of Cyrene’s name mentioned and I guessed that my father had helped Rufus to become adopted and to hide his origins. Perhaps that was also why I had found it so easy to win Rufus’ friendship just when I needed it, when I started dealing in grain.

Seneca on the Imperial throne would have been of such great political advantage to the Christians that it would have been worth relinquishing a few principles to achieve it. For Fenius Rufus it was probably a very different choice, but he was an excellent lawyer and grain merchant and not a soldier. So he could not make that determining decision, but relied on not being exposed. He told Silvanus to obey Nero.

To Silvanus’ honor it must be said that he was ashamed to confront Seneca himself, but sent a centurion with the message. So many edifying things have been written on Seneca’s calmness in the face of death that it is not worth saying much about his death. Anyhow, I do not think it was very pleasant of him to try to frighten his young wife, who still had her life before her, into dying with him.

Of course he consoled her first, according to what his friends said, and made her promise not to go into permanent mourning for him but to lessen her sense of loss by thinking of Seneca’s pursuit of virtue which had been his life. After making her relent, he then in the same breath described his fears for what would happen to her when she fell into the hands of the blood-thirsty Nero. Paulina then said she would prefer to die with her husband.

“I have shown you a way to make your life easier,” said Seneca, “but your yourself prefer an honorable death, and I cannot think that you are choosing wrongly. Let us both show equally great strength in the moment of parting.”

He hurriedly bade the centurion open their veins with a quick slash, so that Paulina would have no time to change her mind.

But Nero had nothing against Paulina. He had expressly ordered her to be spared, for he usually tried to avoid unnecessary cruelty in his sentences for his own reputation’s sake. The centurion was forced to obey Seneca because of his position, but he was careful not to injure Paulina’s tendons or artery when he cut her arm.

Seneca’s body was sufficiently weakened by age and his diet that his blood flowed sluggishly. He did not get into a hot bath as he should have done, but just dictated some corrections to his collected writings to his scribe. When Paulina disturbed him with her weeping, he asked her impatiendy to go into the next room, justifying himself by saying that he did not wish to weaken Paulina’s steadfastness by letting her see how much he was suffering.

In the room next door, on the soldier’s commands, Seneca’s slaves immediately bandaged Paulina’s wrists and stopped the bleeding. Paulina made no objections. So the boundless conceit of an author saved Paulina’s life.

Like many Stoics, Seneca was afraid of physical pain, so he asked his personal physician for some numbing poison such as the Athenians had given Socrates. Perhaps Seneca wished posterity to remember him as an equal to Socrates. When he had finished dictating and the centurion had begun to become impatient, he at last went to his hot bath and then to the household steam bath which was filled with so much steam that he was suffocated. His body was quietly cremated without ceremonies, as he had ordained, making a virtue of a necessity. Nero would never have permitted a public funeral for fear of demonstrations.

Thanks to the centurion, Paulina lived on for many years. She grew as pale as a ghost and it was said that she was secretly converted to Christianity. I am telling you what I have heard. I myself had no desire to get in touch with this grief-stricken widow, and any sensible person will know the reason why. It was not until after her death that I had my freedman’s publishing house take over Seneca’s collected works.

My friend, the author Petronius Arbiter, died, as his reputation demantled, after an excellent banquet for his friends at which he smashed every one of the objets d’art he had collected, so that Nero should not have them. Nero was especially grieved about two incomparable crystal goblets which he had always envied Petronius.

Petronius satisfied his own vanity as an author by putting in his will a careful catalogue of Nero’s vices and the people with whom he had practiced them, to the extent of mentioning all the times, places and names so that no one should suspect him of drawing too much on his imagination. As a writer he perhaps exaggerated to cause more amusement when he later read out his will to his friends as he gradually bled to death. He had himself bandaged up once or twice in order, as he said, to make the most of death as well.

His will he had sent to Nero. I think it was a pity that he would not allow anyone to make a copy of it, but he thought he owed this to Nero for the sake of their old friendship. Petronius was a fine man, the finest I have ever met I think, however crude his stories were.

He could not invite me to his farewell feast, but I was not offended. He had a message sent to me to say that he fully understood my behavior and would probably have done the same himself if he had had the opportunity. On his part, he would have liked to invite me too, but he had guessed that I would not feel at home with certain of his friends. I still have his sensitive letter and will always remember him as a friend.

But why list the downfall or exile of so many acquaintances, noble friends and respected men during that year and the next? It is more agreeable to tell of the rewards which Nero distributed to those who had distinguished themselves in the suppression of the conspiracy. He gave the Praetorians the same sum of two thousand sesterces per man as the conspirators had promised them. He also raised their pay by deciding that from then on they would receive their grain free whereas hitherto they had had to buy it at ordinary market prices. Tigellinus and two others received the right to a triumph, and triumph statues of them were erected in Palatine.

I myself insinuated to Nero that the Senate had become a little thin and that my father’s place still remained empty. There was a great need for a man on the Eastern committee who, like my father, could advise on Jewish affairs and who could mediate between the State and the Jews’ interests in connection with their special position. From Nero’s point of view it would be politically farsighted to appoint senators who had demonstrated their loyalty to him by their actions, for the Senate had in many ways shown itself-to be unreliable and still in sympathy with republicanism.

Nero was astonished and said that he could not yet appoint anyone with such a bad reputation as mine as senator. The Censors would interfere. In addition, after this conspiracy, he had lost his faith in mankind and no longer trusted anyone, not even me.

I spoke energetically for my case and said that in Caere and elsewhere in Italy I owned the property necessary for the rank of senator. At the same time it was also my good fortune that the lawsuit my father had brought in Britain on Jucundus’ behalf, in connection with his inheritance from his mother, was completed after long delays and adjustments in that country. Britons can also inherit on the distaff side, and Lugunda had been of noble birth as well as a hare-priestess.

Lugunda herself, her parents and her brothers had all been killed in the rebellion. Jucundus had been the only heir and also, as the adoptive son of a senator, a trustworthy Roman. The new King of the Icenis had approved his legal claim. In war compensation he had also received, in addition to a great deal of land, some grazing lands in the neighboring country of the Catavelaunias, for they had been involved in the rebellion too and this compensation cost the Iceni king nothing.

He wrote a personal letter to me and asked me in exchange to try to persuade Seneca to lower at least slightly his exorbitant rates of interest which were threatening to cripple the reviving economic life of Britain. I was Jucundus’ legal heir, for my father had adopted Jucundus.

So I used the opportunity to have this inheritance approved by Nero. He would actually have had the right to confiscate it because of my father’s offenses. But now because of the conspiracy, Nero for once had money in such quantities that he had no reason to be difficult. In return I revealed Seneca’s huge investments in Britain and advised Nero to lower the rates of interest to a reasonable level to enhance his own reputation. Nero decided that usury did not befit an Emperor and abolished the payment of interest completely to help Britain on to her feet.

This measure alone raised the value of my British inheritance, for the taxes were also lowered. To my delight I was the first to be able to inform the King of the Icenis of this matter and hence acquired an excellent reputation in Britain and because of this was later elected to the Senate committee for British affairs. On the committee I brought about much which was useful to both the Britons and myself.

To handle my property there, I was forced to summon my cleverest freedmen from Caere and send them to Britain to make the cultivation of the land there profitable in the Roman way and fatten good cattle which could be sold to the legions. Later on, they married respected British women, were extremely successful and ended as governors in Lu-gundanum, the town I had founded in memory of my British wife.

The agriculture and cattle-raising they managed brought in great profits until envious neighbors learned to imitate them. This part of my fortune had nevertheless always done very well indeed, even with my freedmen’s share of the profits deducted. I do not think they cheated me very much, although they both became extremely rich in a very short time. I had trained diem to follow my own example in business. Honesty, within sensible and reasonable limits, is always the best policy compared with shortsighted policies which may bring in immediate profits.

Thus I could declare property in Britain as well as Italy when it came to my appointment as senator. In this way I became a senator, as Claudia wished. And nothing was said against me, other than that I was not of the prescribed age. To this remark the Senate laughed loudly, for there had been so many exceptions to the age-limit rule in the past that die whole matter had lost its significance. In addition, everyone knew what the speaker had wished to bring up against me but did not dare. At Nero’s suggestion, I was more or less unanimously appointed to the high office of senator. I did not bother to remember who had voted against me, for one of them came smiling up to me after the meeting and explained that it is always best for the authority of the Senate that less important suggestions by the Emperor did not receive unanimous support. This I did remember with gratitude.

I have told you so many details of what happened in connection with the Pisonian conspiracy, not to defend myself-for I have no reason to do that-but to postpone for as long as possible what is most painful. You will no doubt guess that I mean Antonia. The tears come to my eyes still, after all these years, when I think of her fate.

Soon after Piso’s suicide, Nero put Antonia’s house on Palatine under guard. He had heard from all too many quarters that Antonia had agreed to follow the usurper to the Praetorian camp. There was even a rumor going around that Piso had promised to divorce his wife and marry Antonia when he became Emperor, but I thought I knew better, as long as Antonia, from love of myself and thought for your future, did not eventually consider such a marriage necessary for political reasons.

I was allowed only one more night with Antonia. That night cost me a million sesterces, the price of the guards’ fear of Nero and Tigellinus. But I was more than glad to give this sum of money. What does money mean against love and passion? I should gladly have given all my possessions to have been able to save Antonia’s life. Or at least a very large part of my possessions. But it could not be done.

During that night of melancholy we seriously planned to abandon everything and attempt to flee together to India, where I had business connections. But it was too far away. We saw that we should soon be caught, for Antonia’s features were known to every Roman, even in the provinces, because of the many statues of her, and no disguise would hide her noble figure for long.

Weeping and embracing, we relinquished all false hopes. Antonia assured me tenderly that she would die bravely and gladly, because for once in her life she had experienced true love. She admitted openly that she had thought of approving me as her consort, if destiny had so wished it, after Claudia had died in some way or other. This assurance of hers is the greatest honor I have ever received in my life. I do not think I am doing wrong in telling you. I do not want to boast about it; simply to show you that she really did love me.

During our last night she talked long and feverishly, telling me of her childhood and her uncle, Sejanus-who, she said, was to have made Claudius Emperor if he had managed to murder Tiberius and get the support of the Senate. Then Rome would have escaped the terrible reign of Gaius Caligula. But fate wished otherwise, and Antonia admitted that Claudius had not then been mature enough to rule. He did nothing but play dice, drink and drive Antonia’s mother to the verge of bankruptcy.

We sat hand in hand for the whole of that night, talking together while death stood waiting on the threshold. The knowledge of this gave our kisses a flavor of blood and brought stinging tears to my eyes. Such a night a person experiences only once in his life and he never forgets it. Afterwards every other pleasure and every other enjoyment is but a reflection. After Antonia I have never really loved another woman.

As the irretrievable moments rushed away and the morning dawned all too soon, Antonia finally made a strange suggestion to me, which at first dumbfounded me although I had to admit its wisdom after my first objections. We both knew we should have no further opportunity to meet. Her death was so inevitable that not even Fortuna could save her now.

So she did not wish to extend her painful waiting, but suggested that I, in addition to the others who had already done so, should also denounce her to Nero. This would hasten her death, finally free me of any suspicions Nero might have and secure your future.

The very thought of such a denouncement was distasteful to me, but Antonia persuaded me and finally I agreed to her suggestion.

On the threshold of her bedroom she gave me some sound advice about certain ancient families with whom I should make connections of friendship for your sake, and others whom for the same reason I should do all I could to keep from power and office, if not in other ways ruin them as best I could.

With tears glittering in her eyes she said she regretted her own death only because she would have been so happy, when the time came, to have had a share in choosing a suitable bride for you, with the future in mind. There are not many left in Rome. Antonia urged me to arrange your betrothal in good time and use my judgment when the right girl was twelve years old. But you take no notice of my reasonable suggestions.

The guards grew uneasy and came and hurried me. We had to part. I shall always remember Antonia’s tearful, smiling, beautiful, noble face, haggard after the night. But I had an even better plan. It made it easier for me to leave her, although the steps I took were the heaviest of my life.

I did not want to go home, nor to see Claudia, nor even you, my son. I whiled away the time by walking around the gardens of Palatine. I stood for a moment leaning against a scorched ancient pine tree, which incredibly was still alive. I looked to the east and to the west, to the north and to the south. Even if all of it were mine one day, I thought, I should exchange the whole earth for a single one of Antonia’s kisses and all the pearls of India for the whiteness of her limbs, for love blinds a man wonderfully in this way.

In reality Antonia was older than I and her best years were behind her. Her thin face bore lines of experience and suffering and she could have been a little plumper here and there. But to me this thinness only emphasized her enchantment. The trembling of her nostrils and her skin was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced.

In ecstasy, I stared down at the forum at my feet, at its ancient buildings, at the new Rome rising from the ashes and ruins, at the buildings of Nero’s Golden Palace which glittered in the sunrise over on Esquiline. I was not really thinking of sites and business, although it did occur to me that my old house on Aventine had become too cramped and that for your sake I should have to acquire a new and more worthy house, as near to the Golden Palace as possible.

I turned away and went down from Palatine to cross over to the Golden Palace and seek audience at Nero’s morning reception. If I were to denounce Antonia, then I had to hurry so that no one did so before me. At the thought of the insanity of life, I burst out laughing, so that I was walking half-laughing, half-weeping, like a man in ecstasy.

Mimdus absurdus, the world is absurd, I repeated aloud to myself, as if I had found a new and astonishing truth. But in my state it seemed the greatest wisdom, though I calmed down later on and thought better of it.

My head cooled a little as I greeted the waiting people in the reception room, for I seemed to see animal heads on them all. This was such an astonishing sight that I had to brush my hand across my eyes.

In the glittering silver ivory salon, its floor decorated with a huge mosaic portraying a banquet of the gods, many people were gathered, pa-tiendy waiting until midday for a glimpse of Nero. The whole of the animal world was there, from a camel and a hedgehog to bulls and pigs. Tigellinus seemed to be so obviously a thin tiger to me that I clapped my hand to my mouth when I greeted him to stop myself from laughing aloud.

This strange delusion, which was probably caused by lack of sleep, love and my inner tension, passed when Nero allowed me to enter his bedroom before all the others, after I had sent a message to say my information was very important. He had had Acte as his bed companion. This showed that he had wearied of his vices and wished to return to natural habits, which happened sometimes.

I did not see Nero as an animal. Indeed, he seemed to me to be suffering, a man in despair from distrust, or perhaps a spoiled overfed child who could not understand why other people thought he was evil when he himself wished no one ill and was also a great singer, perhaps the greatest of his time, as he himself believed. I am no judge, for I am rather unmusical.

Anyhow, when I arrived, Nero was just doing the singing exercises he did every morning. His voice penetrated right through the whole of the Golden Palace. In between he gargled. Nero did not even dare eat fruit because some physician had said that it was not good for his voice. I think an apple or a few grapes are good with the usual morning honey-bread and also assist digestion, which is important for anyone who lives rather well after a certain age.

When I spoke Antonia’s name, my voice trembling and stammering, Nero’s salt gargle fastened in his throat, and he coughed as if he were about to choke. Acte had to thump him on the back and he was furious and chased her out of the room.

“What have you got to say about Antonia, you damned informer?” asked Nero, when Acte had gone and he could talk again.

I confessed that hitherto I had kept it from him that Antonia had been involved in Piso’s conspiracy, out of respect for her father Emperor Claudius, who in his time had been kind enough to give me the name Lausus when I received my man-toga. But my conscience would not leave me in peace when it came to Nero’s safety.

I threw myself onto my knees and told him that Antonia had many a time summoned me at night and with promises of rewards and high office, had tried to persuade me to join the conspiracy. She considered that as a close friend to Nero, I had excellent opportunities to plan to murder him with poison or a dagger.

To add salt to his wounds, I also told him that Antonia had promised to marry Piso after the coup. This absurd rumor wounded his vanity more than anything else, for Antonia had rejected Nero in a most decisive manner.

But Nero was doubtful still and did not trust me. It seemed to be beyond his understanding that a woman such as Antonia could have shown confidence in me, who in his eyes was an insignificant person.

He now had me arrested and put under the guard of the centurion on duty in the Palace, in one of the uncompleted rooms in which a well-known craftsman was doing a magnificent painting of the duel between Achilles and Hector on the walls of Troy. Nero was a Julian and wished to remind his guests that he was descended from an improper relationship between the Trojan Aeneas and Venus. So he never worshiped in the temple of Vulcan, for instance, but always spoke disparagingly of Vulcan. The influential guild of smiths did not like this at all.

The smell of paint irritated me as much as the artist’s self-conscious performance. He would not permit me to talk to my guard even in whispers, in case we disturbed him in his important work. I was affronted that Nero had not put me under the guard of a tribune so that I had to make do with the company of a centurion, although he was a Roman knight. To pass the time and soothe my inner tension, we could have talked about horses if only that conceited craftsman had not forbidden it.

I dared not insult him, for he was high in Nero’s favor. Nero treated him with respect and had given him citizenship. So he always painted dressed in a toga, however absurd it looked. Nero had once even said that he would be glad to promote him to the rank of knight, but nevertheless had not done so. A colored animal trainer was one thing, but a craftsman who painted pictures as a profession-no, there are limits. Even Nero realized this.

I had to wait until the afternoon, but Nero did have food sent to me from his own table, so I was not all that anxious. The centurion and I played dice in silence and we drank some wine, though not enough to intoxicate him since he was on duty. I took the opportunity to send a message to Claudia to say that I had been arrested as a suspect.

Although your mother knew perfectly well I had to secure your future, in her woman’s way she did not like the politically necessary role of informer. I now wished to make her a little anxious for my safety, although I myself was not as anxious as I led her to understand in the message. But then I knew Nero’s whims and did not trust his advisers, not even Tigellinus, although for several reasons he owed me a debt of gratitude.

I was temptingly wealthy, even if I had done my best to hide the true size of my fortune. I remembered uneasily the death of Consul Vestinus, whom we had not even taken into the conspiracy. Fortunately, I knew that Statilia Messalina was on my side for this very reason.

Of course, no marriage had yet taken place between her and Nero, for the laws prescribe a waiting period of nine months, but Statilia was preparing a brilliant wedding feast anyhow, and Nero had already had a foretaste of her charms while Vestinus was still alive. Nero had presumably turned to Acte when Statilia was making sacrifices to the Moon Goddess to make herself a better woman. I knew Acte was sympathetic toward the Christian teaching, and she tried to strengthen Nero’s good qualities, which indeed he possessed, though the task was probably beyond any woman.

Statilia did the opposite. She was the first woman in Rome to introduce the originally German fashion of wearing her left breast bared. She could afford to do this, for she was proud of her well-shaped breasts. Women who were less well equipped by nature were affronted by this new fashion and thought it indecent, as if there were something evil in showing a lovely breast. Even the priestesses at public sacrifices and the Vestals themselves appear on some occasions with their breasts bared, so the habit is more hallowed by a thousand years of tradition rather than indecent in any way.

By the evening, Tigellinus had gathered sufficient evidence of Antonia’s part in the conspiracy from the men who were still alive in Tul-lianum. Two cowardly informers had hastened up as well, to receive a share in the reward. Unblinkingly, they swore that Antonia really had promised to marry Piso as soon as he could rid himself of his wife, and that they had even exchanged betrothal gifts. At the search of Antonia’s house, a necklace of Indian rubies bought secredy by Piso from a Syrian goldsmith was found. How it came to be in Antonia’s house I do not know, nor do I wish to know.

All this evidence convinced Nero. He put on an act of despair, though naturally he was secretly pleased to have a legal reason for killing Antonia. To show me favor he invited me to see the menagerie in his new garden, where Epaphroditus had arranged a private display for his amusement. I was surprised to see some naked boys and girls tied to posts near the lion cages. Epaphroditus was equipped with an animal trainer’s red-hot iron and a sword at his side, but he made a sign to me that I need not worry.

To tell the truth, I was quite frightened when a dull roar was suddenly heard and a lion came rushing toward the posts, its tail thrashing. It rose on its hind legs to claw at the naked victims and sniffed at their sex organs in a disgusting way. To my astonishment the youngsters suffered no injuries at all as they twisted and turned in terror. When the lion had calmed down a little, Epaphroditus stepped forward and thrust his sword into its belly so that the blood spattered forth and the lion tumbled over, kicking its paws about in the air and dying as credibly as one could wish for.

When the boys and girls had been released and led away, still shaking with fright, Nero crept out of the lion’s head and asked proudly whether he had managed to convince me with his acting, despite my experience with wild animals. Of course, I assured him that I had believed in the lion.

Nero showed me the steel springs and technical equipment of the lion costume, as well as the bag of blood which Epaphroditus had punctured with his sword. I have often wondered since about this absurd game, which seemed to give Nero great satisfaction but which he was in some way ashamed of and allowed only a few of his friends to see.

When he had in this way shown his confidence in me, he looked at me cunningly with feigned placidness.

“There is evidence of Antonia’s guilt,” he said, “and I must believe it, however much I may grieve that she has to die. She is, after all, my half sister. You were the one to open my eyes. So you shall have the honor of going to her and opening her veins. If I allowed her to do it voluntarily I should not be making a public affair of it. My own reputation is at stake too. I shall give her a State burial and have her urn put in the god Augustus’ mausoleum. I shall tell the Senate and the people that she committed suicide while her mind was confused, in order to be spared a fatal disease. One can always find a reason as long as she behaves and makes no fuss.”

I was so surprised that my words fastened in my throat, for Nero had forestalled me. I had thought of asking him for the favor of taking the message to Antonia myself, to be able to spend the last moments with her and hold her hand as the blood left her lovely body. This had helped me endure the tension of that long day.

Nero misunderstood my silence. He laughed, slapped me on the back and said contemptuously, “I realize that you think it unpleasant to have to reveal yourself as an informer to Antonia. You must have had something between you at your secret meetings. I know Antonia.”

But I do not seriously believe he imagined that Antonia would have lowered herself to a man like me when she had rejected Nero himself.

By sending me to Antonia, Nero thought he was humiliating me, for inwardly he despised all informers. But there are differences between informers, as I think I have shown in my story. My own motives were more noble than selfish. I was thinking of you my son, and through you of the future of the Julian family. To preserve my life was less important to me. Nero, however, by mistake granted me the greatest joy I could have hoped for at the moment when he thought he was humiliating me.

This I saw in Antonia’s radiant face when once again she saw me after believing that we had parted forever. I do not think anyone has received a sentence of death with such outstretched arms, such radiant eyes and smiling face. She showed her joy so openly that I at once told the tribune and his soldiers to go away. It would be sufficient if they guarded the house from outside.

I knew that Nero was impatiently waiting for the news of Antonia’s death. It was not easy for him either. But I presumed that he realized it might take some time to persuade Antonia to commit suicide without a fuss. Of course we did not need to say a single word, but Nero could not know that.

I did not want to waste precious time by asking Antonia about Piso’s necklace, although I felt burning jealousy over it. We sank together once again into our last embrace, though I perhaps, exhausted by tension and lack of sleep, did not excel as a lover, but we could relax together in each other’s arms, as close as two people can come to each other.

Meanwhile her slave-woman prepared a hot bath in her porphyritic pool. Naked, she went into the bathroom before me and asked me with tears in her eyes to do everything as swiftly as possible. I opened the vein in the fold of her elbow as tenderly and painlessly as I could with a sharp knife in the hot water. She tried to ignore the pain so as not to hurt me, but could not keep back a slight groan.

When the blood began to well up to the surface of the water and color the balsam-scented bath red, Antonia asked me to forgive her for her weakness, and told me that because of her rich and sheltered life, she had never become used to even the least unpleasantness. She used to stick pins into the breast of the slave-woman who brushed her fair hair if the woman pulled it.

As I held Antonia, leaning over her bath, one arm around the back of her neck, my mouth against hers, her hand in mine, my own life seemed so worthless that I asked to be allowed to die with her.

“That’s the greatest courtesy any man has ever paid me,” she whispered in a feeble voice, kissing my ear. “But you must go on living for the sake of our son. Don’t forget all the advice I have given you for his future. And remember, too, to put one of your old Etruscan gold pieces in my mouth before my jaw is bound and I am made ready for the pyre. That will be the most beloved and the last gift I shall receive from you, although I have to give it to Charon to pay him. He’ll know then to treat me according to my rank. I should not want to be crowded by the mob on the ferry.”

A moment later her lips parted under mine and her grip on my hand loosened. But I continued to hold her slim fingers and kiss her beloved face until the end came.

When she was dead and I could not feel the smallest breath, I carried her bloodstained body back to the bed and quickly washed the bloodstains from myself. To my delight I saw that Antonia used my Gallic freedman’s latest Egyptian soap. Naturally it was not exactly Egyptian, but manufactured in Rome like all his other soaps and popular tooth powders. But people paid more for soaps if he gave them fine names.

After I had dressed, I called in the centurion and the soldiers to witness that Antonia had voluntarily committed suicide, and then I left her body to the slave-woman, after first putting into her mouth one of the ancient gold pieces which my freedman had found in some old graves in Caere. I asked her steward to see that it was not stolen, for I had to hurry back to Nero.

In the tension of waiting, Nero had drunk quite a quantity of wine after his lion game, and he thanked me in surprise for having fulfilled my unpleasant task so rapidly. Once again he assured me that I could retain my inherited land in Britain and he himself would put in a word for me in the Curia so that I should receive a senator’s stool. But I have told you about that. I am relieved to have got the saddest part of my story written down.

Compared with all that, it seemed a mere bagatelle when two weeks later I nearly lost my life because of Antonia. Fortunately I had friends who informed me of the investigations Nero had started in connection with Antonia’s will. In this way I could prepare Claudia in time, although the whole of my plan was distasteful to her.

I still do not know why Antonia, an experienced and politically minded woman, felt she had to remember you in her will, although I had warned her against just that. Before her death I did not mention her will again. We had other things to talk about and to be honest, I completely forgot about the thoughtless promise she had made when she wanted you to take the name of Antonianus.

Now I had to be rid of Rubria immediately, for as the eldest of the Vestals, she was the only legal witness to your real origins. I do not wish to tell you any more of my meeting with her. All I shall say is that before that I had to go and see old Locusta in the pleasant country place which Nero had given her. In the garden she and her pupils cultivated many medicinal herbs while, with superstitious thoroughness, she observed the positions of the stars and the phases of the moon at the sowing and harvesting of her seeds and roots.

To my delight, Rubria’s unexpected death did not arouse any surprise among the physicians. Her face had not even darkened, so well had Locusta developed her art in her old age. But Nero was glad to allow her to test some of her medicines on certain criminals who deserved nothing better.

My visit to Rubria did not lead to any questions, for she usually had many visitors in the Vestals’ atrium. So I was able to wall into my secret hiding place the sealed document in which she had certified Claudia’s descent, repeated the confession of the dead Paulina and confirmed that Antonia had regarded your mother Claudia as her real half sister, and in confirmation had given you the name Antonianus.

From several outward signs I noticed beforehand that I had fallen in disfavor and so was not surprised when Nero summoned me. Indeed, I thought I was well prepared.

“Tell me about your marriage, Manilianus,” said Nero, chewing his lips, his chin trembling a little, “as I know nothing about it. Try to give me a credible explanation of why Antonia has remembered your son in her will and has even given him her own name. I did not even know you had a son except Epaphroditus’ bastard.”

I avoided his eyes and tried to the best of my ability to tremble with fright, and I must say that I did not have to make all that great an effort to do so. Nero thought I was hiding something.

“I should have understood if Antonia had been content to leave the boy just her Uncle Sejanus’ signet ring,” Nero went on. “But it’s incredible that she has left him some of the Julian family jewels which she inherited from Claudius’ mother, old Antonia. Included in them, among other things, is a shoulder insignia which the god Augustus is said to have worn in the field and at State sacrificial ceremonies. Even more extraordinary is that your marriage is not written in any of the books and your son is not in the new census, not to mention the rolls of the Noble Order of Knights, although the prescribed time has long since run out. There’s something very fishy about the whole thing.”

I threw myself down at his feet and cried out in feigned regret, “My conscience has been troubling me about it, but I am so ashamed that I’ve never been able to reveal it to any of my friends. My wife Claudia is a Jewess.”

Nero burst into such a violent laugh of relief that his thick body shook and tears came to his eyes. He never liked to send people to their deaths on mere suspicion, least of all his real friends.

“But Minutus,” he said reproachfully, when he could speak again, “to be a Jew is no shame in itself. You know perfecdy well how much Jewish blood has been mixed into the best families for hundreds of years. For my dearest Poppaea’s sake, I cannot regard the Jews as any worse than other people. I even tolerate them in the State service, within reasonable limits, of course. While I rule everyone is regarded as equal as human beings, whether Roman, Greek, black or white. So I tolerate Jews too.”

I rose and looked suitably sorrowful and embarrassed.

“If that were all, then I should not hesitate to introduce my wife to you and my friends,” I said, “but she is descended from slaves too. Her parents were poor freedmen of Claudius’ mother, Antonia, that is, your grandmother in some ways. That’s why she’s called Claudia. You must see why I am ashamed of her. Perhaps that’s why Antonia wanted to give the boy some cheap jewelry in memory of her grandmother. It was my wife who wanted him to be called Antonianus.

“But still,” I went on, trembling with excitement and anger, “that will, which came as a complete surprise to me, is just an attack of Antonia’s boundless ill-will, to bring me under suspicion. She knew I had denounced Scevinus, Piso and the others, although she could not have known that for your safety and driven by my conscience I should be forced to denounce her as well. In truth, I do not regret that in the slightest”

Nero frowned thoughtfully and I saw that his distrust had again been aroused.

“I’d better confess at once that I have a certain interest in the Jewish faith,” I said quickly. “That’s no crime, even if it is not suitable to a man in my position. Such things are best left to women. But my wife is intolerably stubborn. She’s always forcing me to go to the Julius synagogue. Other Romans do that too. Its members shave, dress like ordinary people and go to the theater.”

Nero went on staring gloomily at me.

“Your explanation might be true,” he said, “but it is very unfortunate that Antonia witnessed this codicil over six months ago. She could not have had any idea then that you would appear as a simple informer of the Pisonian conspiracy.”

I realized I should have to confess even more. I was prepared for this, though naturally I tried to avoid it at first so as not to arouse Nero’s suspicions by my sudden candor. He always believed that everyone was hiding something from him.

I stared at the floor and scraped my feet on the mosaic portraying Mars and Venus embracing one another, entangled in Vulcan’s copper net, which I thought most appropriate for the occasion. I rubbed my hands together and struggled for words.

“Tell me everything,” Nero said sharply. “Otherwise I’ll have your brand-new boots removed from you. The Senate would like that, as you know.”

“My lord,” I cried, “I am putting my trust in your magnanimity and sensitivity! Keep my shameful secret to yourself, and please don’t mention it to my wife under any circumstances. Her jealousy is intolerable. She is of that age and I do not really understand how I became entangled with her.”

Nero soon realized that a juicy tidbit was coming and he licked his lips.

“It is said that Jewesses have special qualities in bed,” he said. “Naturally you have also found her Jewish connections useful. You can’t deceive me. I promise nothing. Tell me.”

“In her ambitious way,” I stammered, “my wife had the idea that we should invite Antonia when we were giving our son his name, and in the presence of witnesses I took him on my knee and acknowledged him.”

“As you once acknowledged Lausus,” remarked Nero jokingly. “But go on.”

“I did not imagine that Antonia would come,” I said, “even for a nephew of one of her grandmother’s freedmen. But at that time she had little company and needed a change. For decency’s sake she brought Rubria with her, the Vestal, who, I might mention in passing, became drunk during the evening. I can only believe that Antonia had heard something favorable about me and out of curiosity wished to meet me, though perhaps she was already looking for friends and supporters for her future aims. When she had drunk quite a bit of wine, she led me to understand that I was welcome to her home on Palatine, but preferably without my wife.”

Nero flushed and he leaned forward to hear better.

“I am sufficiently conceited to have felt honored by her invitation,” I went on, “though I thought it was due to the wine or some other cause. But I went there one evening and she received me with unexpected friendliness. No, my lord, I daren’t go on.”

“Don’t be shy,” said Nero. “I know about some of your visits to her. They are said to have lasted through to the morning. In fact I wondered slighdy whether your son could have been borne by Antonia. But I gather he is already seven months old. And everyone knows Antonia was as scraggy as an old cow.”

Blushing furiously, I admitted that Antonia had shown me considerable hospitality in her bed, too, and had become so attached to me that she wished to see more of me, although because of my wife I was very frightened that such a relationship might be discovered. But perhaps I had satisfied Antonia’s needs so well that she wished to remember my son in her will when she could not leave me anything for reasons of decency.

Nero laughed and slapped his knees.

“The old tart!” he shouted. “Well, well, she lowered herself to go with you, did she? But you weren’t the only one. Believe it or not, she tried with me once when I happened to caress her a bit. I was drunk of course, but I remember her sharp nose and thin lips as she hung around my neck and tried to kiss me. After that she spread an absurd story that I had proposed to her. Piso’s necklace says enough of her depravity. She probably slept with slaves too, if there was nothing better within reach. So you were good enough too.”

I could not help clenching my fists, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

“Statilia Messalina is very pleased with Piso’s necklace,” said Nero. “She even has her nipples painted the same color as those blood rubies.”

Nero was so delighted with his own ingenuity that I felt the worst danger was over. He grew cheerful and relieved, but it was peculiar to his sense of humor that he wished to punish me for my secrets in some way that would make me look foolish all over the city. He thought for a moment.

“Naturally,” he then said, “I should like to meet your wife and see for myself that she is a Jewess. And I should also like to question the witnesses who were present when your son received his name. They are Jews too, I suppose. I’ll make inquiries at the Julius Caesar synagogue to see how faithful you have been there. Meanwhile you can do me the service of having yourself circumcised, just to simplify matters. Your wife will be pleased about that. I think it’s just and reasonable that you should be punished on the part of the body with which you have violated my half sister. Be thankful that I’m in a good mood and am letting you off lightly.”

I was appalled and degraded myself by begging him not to insult me so terribly. But I myself had put my head into the noose. Nero was all the more delighted when he saw my horror, and put his hand consolingly on my shoulder.

“It’ll be a good thing to have someone who is circumcised in the Senate, looking after the interests of the Jews, for then they won’t have to have others going behind my back any longer. Go now and see that it is done. Then bring your wife here with the witnesses, and come yourself if you can walk. I want to see that you’ve obeyed my order myself.”

I had to go home and tell Claudia and the two witnesses, who were waiting in fear and trembling for my return, that we were to meet in the reception room of the Golden Palace in a short while. Then I went to the Praetorian camp to talk to a field surgeon who verbosely informed me that he could do the little operation without the slightest difficulty. During his service in Africa, he had performed it on many legionaries and centurions who had wearied of the eternal inflammations caused by sand. He still had the tube that was needed.

For the sake of my reputation I did not wish to be treated by the Jews. In this I made a big mistake, for they would have been incomparably more skillful. I courageously endured the field surgeon’s dirty tube and blunt knife, but the wound healed badly and soon festered, so that for a long time I lost all desire even to look at a woman.

I have never really been myself again since then, although some women have seemed very inquisitive about my scarred organ. I am only human, but I think their pleasure was greater than mine. This has had the advantage of helping me to live a reasonably virtuous life.

I am not ashamed to talk about this, for everyone knows about Nero’s cruel joke at my expense and I have a nickname because of it, which I shall not mention for decency’s sake.

But your mother had no idea what to expect of Nero, however much I had tried to prepare her for her part. When I returned from the Praetorian camp, limping and deathly white, Claudia did not even ask what was wrong with me, but simply thought I feared Nero’s wrath. Both the Jewish Christians were also very frightened, of course, however much I tried to encourage them and remind them of the gifts I had promised them.

Nero needed only to take one look at Claudia.

“A Jewish hag,” he shouted at once. “I can see that from her eyebrows and her thick lips, not to mention her nose. She’s got gray hair too. The Jews go gray young because of some Egyptian curse, I’ve heard say. It’s amazing that she could have had a child at that age. But they breed, the Jews.”

Claudia trembled with rage, but remained silent for your sake. Then both the Jews swore on sacred oaths of the temple in Jerusalem that they knew Claudia’s origins and that she was a Jewess, born of Jewish parents but of an especially respected Jewish family whose ancestors had come to Rome as slaves in the time of Pompey. Antonia had honored my son’s naming with her presence and allowed him to be called Antonianus in memory of her grandmother.

This interrogation lulled Nero’s suspicions. Both the Christian Jews had in fact committed perjury, but I had chosen them because they belonged to a certain Christian sect which for some reason believed that Jesus of Nazareth had forbidden all kinds of oaths. They held to their beliefs and said that they were committing a sin by taking an oath so that it did not make any difference whether the oath were true or false. They were sacrificing themselves by taking this oath for the sake of my son, in the hope that Jesus of Nazareth would forgive them because of their good intentions.

But Nero would not have been Nero if he had not glanced at me with a humorous glint in his eye and said, “My dear Domina Claudia, or Serenissima I should say, since your husband, despite all his abominations, has managed to acquire his purple boots. Well, Domina Claudia, I suppose you know that your husband took this opportunity to have a secret relationship with my unfortunate half sister, Antonia. I have witnesses to the fact that night after night they fornicated together in a summerhouse in her garden. I was forced to keep an eye on her so that she did not cause a scandal with her depravity.”

Claudia blanched when she heard this. She must have realized from my expression that Nero was telling the truth. She herself had persecuted me with her chatter until I had succeeded in throwing dust in her eyes by explaining that I was taking part in the Pisonian conspiracy, whose meetings were held at night.

Claudia raised her hand and slapped my face so that the sound echoed. I humbly turned the other cheek as Jesus of Nazareth says one should do, and Claudia raised her other hand and split my eardrum on that side. I have been a little deaf ever since. Then she burst out into such a flood of invective that I could hardly believe that it came from her mouth. I should say that I was more successful in following the teaching of Christ than she was, by sensibly keeping silent.

Claudia hurled such a downpour of crude curses on both myself and the dead Antonia that Nero had to stop her. Nothing but good of the dead, he reminded her. For the sake of her own health, Claudia should remember that Antonia was Nero’s own half sister and so he could not allow others to speak ill of her.

To appease Claudia and appeal to her compassion, I flung up my mantle, raised my tunic and showed her the bloodstained bandage about my organ, telling her that I had endured punishment enough for my faults. Nero forced me to undo the bandage, painful as this was, so that he could see for himself that I had not tried to deceive him by winding a bloodstained cloth around an uninjured organ.

“Are you really so stupid,” he said after looking at it, “that you rushed straight off and had yourself circumcised? I was only joking and regretted what I had said after you had gone. But I must admit that you faithfully obey my orders, Minutus.”

Claudia was not sorry for me. Indeed, she clapped her hands together and praised Nero for finding a punishment which she would never have dreamed of thinking up. For me it was punishment enough to be married to Claudia. I think she has never forgiven me for being unfaithful to her with Antonia. She has nagged at me about this for years, when a reasonable woman would have forgotten such a temporary lapse by her husband.

Nero considered the matter was now closed and after sending Claudia and the two Jews away, went on to talk of other things without the slightest sympathy for me.

“As you know, the Senate has decided on thank-offerings for the exposure of the conspiracy,” he began, “I myself have decided to build Ceres a temple which befits her. The other one was burned by the cursed Christian fire-raisers and I haven’t had time to plan a new one, as my hands are full with the rebuilding of Rome. But the cult center of Ceres has been on Aventine since time immemorial. I have not been able to find a large enough site there, so to restore our mutual confidence and set seal on our friendship, I’m sure you’d be willing to present your house and garden on Aventine to Ceres. It’s the best possible place. Don’t be surprised if the slaves have already begun to pull down the house when you get home. The matter is urgent and I was sure of your approval.”

In this way Nero forced me to give him the Manilianus’ old family house without the slightest compensation. I could not summon up any overwhelming joy over this favor, for I knew he would take the honor on himself and not even mention my name when the temple was dedicated. Bitterly I asked him where he thought I was going to put my bed and my possessions in the present housing shortage.

“Of course,” said Nero. “I hadn’t thought of that. But your father’s, or rather Tullia’s, house is still empty. I haven’t been able to sell it because it is haunted.”

I replied that I was not going to spend huge sums on a haunted house which I did not want. I also explained how decayed it was and how ill-planned it had been in the first place, and that now, untouched for years, it had a wild garden which would be far too expensive to keep up in view of the new water taxes.

Nero listened, enjoying my description.

“As evidence of my friendship,” he said, “I had thought of selling you the house at a reasonable piice. But it disgusts me that you insolently and unworthily begin to bargain before I’ve even mentioned a price. I no longer regret having asked you to get yourself circumcised. To show you that Nero is Nero, I hereby present you with your father’s house. I refuse to lower myself by haggling with you.”

Naturally I thanked Nero with all my heart, although he was not giving me the house for nothing, but in exchange for my old house on Aventine. Sufficient that I gained on the exchange.

I thought with satisfaction that Tullia’s house was almost worth circumcision, and that thought still consoled me when I sickened with fever. I myself had done my best to stop the house being sold by spreading rumors about ghosts and having a couple of slaves rattle pan lids and thump furniture at night in the abandoned house. We Romans are superstitious when it comes to ghosts and the dead.

So now I can with good conscience go on to tell you about Nero’s victorious progress through Greece, about the regrettable deaths of Cephas and Paul and about how I came to take part in the siege of Jerusalem.