The Secret of the Kingdom

Book XIII

Nero

The suppression of the Pisonian conspiracy continued for nearly two years and extended to those wealthy men in the provinces and allied states who had evidently known what was happening but had said nothing. Merciful though Nero was in replacing the death sentence with exile wherever possible, thanks to the conspiracy he managed to put the State finances into some kind of order despite his enormous expenses.

In fact the preparations for war against Parthia accounted for the greater part of the State income. Nero was quite moderate in his living habits for an Emperor, compared with some of the wealthy and newly rich in Rome. Due to the influence of the dead Petronius, Nero attempted to replace the vulgarity of Rome’s upstarts with good taste, though of course he often made mistakes now that he no longer had Petronius to consult.

To Nero’s credit it should be said that he did not, for instance, burden the State treasury with more than the costs of transport when he replaced the works of art which had been destroyed by the fire with new statues and objets d’art. He sent an arts commission to Achaia and Asia to search every town of any size and send the best sculpture they could find back to the Golden Palace.

This aroused considerable discontent among the Greeks, and in Per-gamon there was even an armed uprising. But the commission completed its task so well that even in Athens they discovered irreplaceable statues and paintings dating from the time when Greece had been a great power, though Athens had of course been thoroughly plundered during the Roman conquest.

In newly prosperous Corinth too, where once hardly a stone had been left untouched, they found treasures, for the wealthy merchants and shipowners had done a good job building their collections over the years. And in the islands, which had not hitherto been searched for works of art for Rome, old statues were found which deserved the place of honor they were given in the great rooms and arcades of the Golden Palace.

The Palace was so large that it remained spacious although the commission sent one shipload of objects after another to it. Some of the sculptures which Nero thought less worthy he gave to his friends, for he himself wished only for the very best of ancient art. In this way I acquired my marble Aphrodite which is by Phidias and whose colors are marvelously preserved. I still set great store by it, despite your grimaces. Try to calculate some time what it would fetch if I had to sell it at a public auction to pay for your racing stable.

Because of the coming war with Parthia and to calm his own conscience, Nero revoked his monetary reforms and had full-weight coins struck in the temple of Juno Moneta as gold and silver flowed into the State treasury. The legions which had secretly begun to move eastward to strengthen Corbulo’s forces were discontented with their lessened pay, and while Nero could have raised the soldiers’ pay by a fifth, everyone knew what huge outlays that would have necessitated. So it became cheaper in the long run to restore the value of money. Nero granted the legions certain additional reliefs, just as he had earlier granted the Praetorians free grain.

In fact it was a matter of juggling, an art many a wise man has attempted in vain. I shall say nothing against the State treasury freedmen, whose office is burdensome and who thought out the plan. But personally I thought it scandalous that Nero’s silver coins containing copper had to be exchanged at the rate of ten for eight, so that one received only four new coins for five old ones.

I myself did not suffer, but among the poor this new edict aroused just as much bitterness as Nero’s original reforms. So it did not improve his popularity, although he himself thought it did. Nero never had understood money matters but just followed his clever advisers’ counsel. The legions, however, calmed down when their pay was once again paid in solid silver.

Nero could only shake his head over the state of affairs in the State treasury, although he himself thought he had done everything to improve the position, sacrificing time that could otherwise be spent on his artistic interests by going through provincial tax lists and selecting wealthy people whose property could be confiscated as a punishment for participation in the Pisonian conspiracy.

There was usually evidence. There was always some inappropriate expression of pleasure, or someone who had forgotten Nero’s birthday, or, the worst crime of all, someone who had spoken disparagingly of his singing. No wealthy man’s conscience is ever completely clear. It was even wise to stay awake and refrain from yawning when Nero performed in the theater. Nor would he tolerate anyone leaving noisily in the middle of a performance, even if the person were ill.

To finance the Parthian war he had to levy unreasonably high taxes on luxury goods and as a result such goods were sold clandestinely. Thus surprise inspections had to be arranged in the city shops, and the merchants were annoyed at having their stores confiscated and themselves fined.

Flavius Sabinus, my former father-in-law, was ashamed of these measures, which he was responsible for carrying out as City Prefect, and he was afraid of losing his reputation altogether. Sometimes he had the merchants warned, at least the richer ones, before they were surprised by his inspectors. I know that for certain. And he had no reason to regret his honesty, for he very shortly improved his financial position.

Nero was aided by Statilia Messalina’s vanity. Statilia thought that the color violet suited her best and in this she was quite right. In order to retain this color for herself and no one else, she made Nero forbid the sale of all violet dyes. Naturally this resulted in every Roman woman with any self-respect dressing herself in violet, or at least owning some clothing of this color, though of course only at home and in the company of reliable friends.

This secret trade in violet reached unimaginable proportions and the merchants profited so much from it that they were happy to have their goods confiscated occasionally and now could pay their fines.

Nero was not personally enthusiastic about the war with Parthia, however necessary it seemed to be for Rome’s future to open direct overland trade routes to the East. With you in mind, I gradually came to approve of the plan, however distasteful wars are to me. My father’s freedmen in Antioch made huge sums of money from war supplies and persuaded me to support the plans for a war in my speeches in the committee for Eastern affairs. In itself the plan was reasonable and the time favorable. The suppression of the Parthians will be necessary one day anyhow, if Rome’s security is to be maintained. But I had wished only that it should not happen in my time, and neither did it. The inevitable still lay before us.

Nero agreed when he was told that he could easily leave the actual warfare to Corbulo, but himself as commantler-in-chief in name celebrate the triumph. But I think that he was more tempted by the thought of holding a concert in Ecbatana-so that with his brilliant voice he could win the devotion of his new subjects after the sufferings of war-than by thoughts of a triumph.

None of his advisers considered it necessary to tell him that the Parthians do not particularly like music or regard singing as a pastime worthy of an Emperor. They value riding and archery more, as Crassus in his time bitterly discovered. To be rid of him, your ancestor Julius Caesar sent him to fight the Parthians and the Parthians killed him by pouring molten gold down his throat, so that for once he would have enough. Perhaps it would be a good thing if you remembered this story, my son. If someone must go to Parthia, do not go yourself, but send another.

I need not say anything about the history of Parthia and the Arsa-cidae. It is thick with fratricide, coups d’etat, Eastern cunning and generally speaking, all sorts of things that would never occur here in Rome. No Roman Emperor has ever been publicly murdered except your ancestor Julius Caesar. And he was responsible for his own death by ignoring good counsel, while his murderers honesdy believed they were acting for the good of the fatherland. Gaius Caligula was a case on its own, nor has it ever been quite clear whether Livia poisoned Augustus or whether Caligula strangled Tiberius. Even Agrippina poisoned Claudius without causing unnecessary publicity. Whatever one thinks of these events, they were handled decently, within the family so to speak.

The Arsacidae, on the other hand, regard themselves as the rightful heirs to the former Persian kingdom and boast of their murders and how cleverly they were carried out, and their dynasty has ruled for more than three hundred years. I do not wish to begin to list their involved land intrigues. Certainly they have plenty of experience. It is sufficient that I mention that Vologeses succeeded in establishing his power and became a politically astute opponent to Rome.

To place his brother Tiridates in an embarrassing position Vologeses put him on the throne of Armenia, which during Corbulo’s campaigns had been devastated three times and reconquered again. It was in that same Armenian war that two legions suffered such an ignominious defeat that to maintain discipline Corbulo had to execute every tenth man afterwards by drawing lots. Restoring discipline and the will to fight in the weak Syrian legions required years of work but now it was beginning to bear fruit.

Vologeses had to make the best of a bad job and recognize Armenia as a state allied to Rome in the hope of keeping his brother away from Ecbatana. In the presence of the legions and the cavalry, Tiridates laid his diadem at Nero’s feet. For this purpose a statue of Nero had been erected on a senator’s stool. Tiridates promised on oath that he would personally come to Rome to confirm the alliance and receive the diadem back from Nero’s own hand.

But he was never seen in Rome. In reply to questions, he made a number of evasions and among other things maintained that for religious reasons he could not expose himself to the risks of a sea voyage. When he was asked to travel overland, he pleaded poverty. The rebuilding of Armenia was no doubt occupying all his resources.

Nero regally promised to bear the cost of the land journey for him and his escort on Roman land, but Tiridates still did not come. According to reliable sources, he was making unnecessarily close connections with the remaining Armenian noblemen, after the Romans and the Parthians had alternately competed at executing those who fell into their hands.

In the Senate committee for Eastern affairs we regarded Tiridates’ evasions as questionable. We knew only too well that Parthia’s secret agents had done their best to spread discontent in the Eastern states allied to Rome as well as in the provinces in an effort to put an end to the war. They bribed German tribes to move and thus hinder legion movements eastward, and as far away as in Britain they tried using generous promises to inveigle hostile tribes into rebellion so that we still had to keep four legions in Britain to maintain the peace. As his envoys, Vologeses used wandering Jewish merchants who knew many languages and were used to adapting themselves to new circumstances.

Fortunately I received the news of these intrigues in good time from old Petro in Lugundanum. I had considered that I owed it to Lugunda to name a town after her, because of my inheritance. The town was well chosen and holds a key position in Iceni country. Petro lives there and enjoys a well-earned old-age pension in gratitude for his loyalty, so that I should be able to keep my good connection with the Druids and keep myself informed of what went on in the tribes. Fortunately the Druids did not give their support to the rebellion because certain omens had convinced them that the Roman occupation of their island would not last. I am not superstitious when it comes to my property.

So I let it quietly increase in value in Britain and went on making new investments there.

Anyhow, through my connections with the Druids I heard about the Jewish merchants’ suspected journeys in Britain. On my advice, the Procurator had two of them crucified and the Druids themselves sacrificed two others in wicker baskets to their gods, because the Jews, in spite of their secret assignment, appeared much too self-assured in matters of faith. A legion could then be transferred to the East. I saw no reason for larger movements than that.

Gradually, with a great many security measures, ten legions had been gathered in the East. I shall not list them, for troops on the march had to change their numbers and eagles to lead the Parthian scouts astray. All the same, Vologeses was unnecessarily well informed of the movements and positions of our troops, and he even knew about the grazing land dispute by the Euphrates, which we had meant to put forward to the Senate and people of Rome as a formal reason for war. At a secret meeting of the committee we had granted Corbulo, who still retained his physical strength, the honor of throwing a spear across the Euphrates into the Parthian area, as a declaration of war. Corbulo said in a letter that he could do this, and promised to practice every day so that the spear would not land in the water but would reach as far as the disputed grazing land.

From a military point of view Nero’s long-planned journey to Greece presented an excellent screen for our plans. Not even the Parthians could doubt Nero’s genuine wish to win wreaths for singing at the ancient Greek games. On his journey he had good cause to take one of the Praetorian legions as his escort and leave the other behind to guard his throne.

Tigellinus promised to control Nero’s enemies while he was away, however bitterly he complained at not being allowed the honor of traveling with the Emperor. Naturally everyone who thought himself anything wanted to go with the Emperor to witness his victories in the competitions and generally keep themselves within his view, even those who still did not know of the coming war and the possibilities it offered for distinction. Had they known, perhaps they would have discovered some illness or some other genuine reason for not going.

News of the riots among the Jews in Jerusalem and Galilee, which were naturally encouraged by Parthia, had arrived in Rome. But none of us took them very seriously. There was always trouble in that part of the world, whether Felix or Festus was procurator. But King Herodes Agrippa seemed genuinely worried.

So in the Eastern committee we decided that an entire legion should be sent to Syria to put an end to these disturbances. The legion would at least get some field experience if not much glory, since the Jews, armed with clubs and catapults, would not be able to offer much resistance against an experienced legion.

So at last we left on the journey which Nero had long dreamed of and which was to crown his artistic career. To achieve his goal, he had ordered beforehand that all the Greek competitive games should be held one after another so that as soon as he had arrived he could take part in the competitions.

As far as I know, this is the only time the Olympic Games have had to be moved to an earlier date than the proper one. Everyone must realize the difficulties this caused, even in Greek chronology. Proud of their past, they still reckon their years in olympiads, beginning from the first games in Olympia, although they should be content with just reckoning from the foundation of the city in the Roman way. Then chronology would be standardized. But the Greeks always want to do things in an involved way.

At the last moment, just before their departure, Nero refused to allow Statilia Messalina to accompany him. As a reason, he said that he could not possibly guarantee her safety should war break out. The real reason came to light during the journey. Nero had at last found the person he had for so long been seeking, a person who in every feature resembled Poppaea. He was called Sporus and was unfortunately not a woman, but an indecently beautiful youth.

Nevertheless the boy said that in his heart he felt more like a girl than a boy, so at his request Nero had had a certain operation performed on him and had given him medicine which an Alexandrian physician had prescribed to stop the growth of hair on his chin, to enlarge his breasts and in general develop his aphrodisiac characteristics.

So that I do not have to return to this story again, for it roused much bad blood, I shall mention here that in Corinth, Nero was married to Sporus with all the usual ceremonies, and then treated him as his legal wife. Nero himself maintained that the marriage, with its dowry, veils and wedding procession, was a formality which certain mysteries demantled but which was not rightfully binding in any way. He considered himself bisexual, as are all the male gods. Alexander the Great had secured this view when he was acclaimed a god in Egypt, so Nero considered his leanings as a kind of additional evidence of his divinity.

He was so sure he was right that he put up with the coarsest jokes about Sporus. For fun he once asked a senator who was known as a Stoic what he thought of this marriage. The old man replied, “Everything would be better in the world of man if your father Domitius had had a similar wife.” Nero was not angry, but laughed appreciatively at this jibe.

Enough has been said about Nero’s victories in the Greek music competitions. He brought home over a thousand victory wreaths. Only in the Olympic races did things go badly for him when in a ten-horse team race he was thrown off the chariot at a corner post and only just had time to cut through the reins that were twisted about his waist. Naturally he was badly bruised, but in reward for his boldness, the judges unanimously awarded him a wreath. Nero himself said he could not accept the wreath of victory since he had not completed the race, and he contented himself with the olive wreaths he won in singing and wrestling in Olympia. I tell you this as an example of Nero’s physical courage in genuine danger and in demanding sports.

Nero did his best to show true Greek sporting spirit and did not insult his rivals in the singing competitions as unscrupulously as in Rome. His victories were all the more deserved as he was plagued with ill luck. For a whole week he suffered the torments of toothache, until finally the aching tooth had to be extracted. The tooth broke in the process, in spite of the physician’s skill, and so the roots had to be dug out of his jaw. But Nero manfully endured the pain.

Fortunately the physician could numb the pain a little and Nero made himself as drunk as possible before the operation, as would even the bravest of men before handing himself over to a dentist. People who would know better than I can decide how much his toothache and the swelling affected his voice and his performance.

It seemed to me evidence of Nero’s sporting spirit that when he was offered the opportunity of being initiated into the Eleusinian mysteries, he humbly declined the honor on the grounds of his reputation as a matricide. Evil tongues of course made out that he was afraid of the punishment of the gods had he partaken in these most sacred mysteries of all time.

But this was without foundation. Nero knew that he himself was as much a god as the rest of the gods of the country, although he declined this public honor from modesty. A large majority of us in the Senate were prepared to declare him a god in his lifetime, whenever he wished it.

After weighing the matter, I myself also considered it best not to partake in the Eleusinian ceremonies, I explained to the priests in great confidence that I had been most painfully forced to allow my own son to be executed, although I had not known of it myself at the time, so my conscience would not allow me to insult the mysteries with my presence. Thus I managed to avoid offending the sacred priesthood and could say to Nero that out of friendship for him I was abstaining from the mysteries. In this way Nero’s trust in me and my friendship was even more strengthened, and this I was shortly to need.

In fact there would have been far too much to explain to Claudia if I had allowed myself to be initiated. I declined for the sake of peace, even if my heart felt sore afterwards when the other senators, long after their initiation, were obviously glad to have shared in the divine secrets which no one has yet ever dared reveal to outsiders.

And then the unbelievable and infamous news arrived that the Jews had scattered and defeated the Syrian legion, which had fled from Jerusalem. As a votive gift, the Jews had set up the captured legionary Eagle in their temple.

I shall not mention the legion’s number or watchword, for it has been struck from the military rolls, and the Censors still refuse to allow this defeat to be mentioned in the annals of Rome. Historians in general do not like to mention the rebellion of the Jews, although Vespasian and Titus were by no means ashamed of their victory and indeed celebrated a triumph after it. The striking out of the legion was of course partly due to economy when the Parthian war came to nothing.

I admit I needed all my strength of will to meet Nero’s eye when he demantled an account of what had happened from the committee for Eastern affairs. According to him, it was incomprehensible that we had not known that the rebellious Jews had strengthened the walls of Jerusalem and that they had succeeded in acquiring weapons and training troops in secret. The defeat of a whole legion could not be explained in any other way.

As the youngest, I was the one who was pushed forward first to give my opinion, as was customary in war councils. Presumably my colleagues put their trust in my friendship with Nero and did not deliberately wish me ill. And I find it easy to talk.

I referred to the cunning of the Parthians and the huge sums of money which Vologeses had used to tie down Rome’s military strength wherever possible. The Jews had of course been able to buy or simply accept presents of weapons from him, which could easily have been carried along the desert routes to Judaea, unnoticed by our border guards. The Jewish rebels’ faith in their cause was so well known that the fact that the rebellion had been kept secret surprised no one.

The endless troubles while Felix and Festus had been in charge of the governorship in Caesarea had lulled even the most sensible people into a false sense of security. In Judaea, as elsewhere, Roman rule presupposed that we ruled by dividing. “The greatest miracle is,” I said conclusively, “that the violently disunited sections among the Jews have been able to unite into one rebellion.”

I also cautiously referred to the great power of the god of Israel, of which many conclusive examples are to be found in the holy scripts of the Jews, although he has neither an image nor a name.

“But,” I said, “even if much in this matter can be understood, it is impossible to comprehend how Corbulo, in whose hands the war had been left, and despite his military reputation and his successes in Armenia, could have allowed this to happen. The responsibility lies with him and not the Syrian Proconsuls to restore order in Judaea and Galilee so that it can be a support area for further warfare. Evidently Corbulo has directed all his attention to the north and prepared the Hyrcanians for holding the Parthian troops by the sea there. But by devoting all his attention to a small detail in the larger plan, he has lost a general view of the situation, judged the situation wrongly and in this way shown that he is no strategic military leader.”

This in my view was true, and anyhow no friendship bound me to Corbulo whom I did not even know. And anyhow, friendship should stand aside when the State is in danger. That principle is impressed on every senator, and of course there is one’s own life to consider too. We could not afford to spare Corbulo, whatever honors he had brought Rome.

I was bold enough to remark that in my opinion the Parthian war should be postponed until the rebellion in Jerusalem had been suppressed, for this would tie down three of the legions. But fortunately the legions were already collected at their deployment areas and there were sufficient war machines to break through even the strongest of walls. The Jewish rebellion in Jerusalem could be suppressed very swiftly. I thought it much more dangerous that there were Jewish colonies in practically all the cities in the country, not to mention the thirty thousand Jews in Rome.

Nero allowed me to speak my piece and seemed to calm down. I hurriedly added that at least the Jews in the Julius Caesar synagogue were not involved in the rebellion. This I could guarantee personally, even if their temple gifts had obviously been misused to finance the rebellion. “But,” I said, “Poppaea in all innocence sent gifts to the temple in Jerusalem.”

When I fell silent, no one else dared to speak. Nero thought over the matter for a long time, frowning and pulling at his lips, then waved us impatiently away. He had other things to think about, and it would do us good to wait a while and try to guess what our punishment would be for our failure.

In his capacity as Emperor his intention was to appoint a commantler capable of capturing Jerusalem and to give him the necessary troops. Corbulo had already been recalled to account for what had been done and what had not. Postponing the Parthian campaign indefinitely was such a serious decision that Nero would first have to consult the omens and make a sacrifice.

We left somewhat relieved, and I invited my colleagues to a good meal in my quarters. Nevertheless we found it somewhat difficult to swallow our food although my excellent cooks did their best. We talked together excitedly and drank neat wine while my guests put forward such embittered and prejudiced opinions on the Jews that I was forced to defend them.

The Jews certainly had good and creditable sides, and they were in fact only defending the freedom of their own people in this rebellion. In addition, Judaea was the Emperor’s province and not the Senate’s. Nero himself was responsible for the rebellion for appointing a ruthless rogue like Festus as Procurator after Felix.

Perhaps I was too eager in my defense, for my colleagues began to glance at me in surprise as the wine rose to their heads.

“Evidently it is true,” one of them said contemptuously, “when it is said that you are a scarprick.”

I had wanted to keep my unpleasant nickname a secret, but thanks to your bearded friend Juvenal and his verses, everyone knows it. No, I am not blaming you, my son, for deliberately leaving the verse about when you were here last, to please your father. I should indeed know what people think of me and what you think of your father. And poets use far worse words nowadays in what they write to annoy their elders.

As nearly as I can make out, they think they are defending the truth and natural speech to counterbalance the artificial eloquence we have inherited from Seneca. Perhaps they are right. But the beard they have inherited from Titus, who brought the fashion to Rome when he came back home from Jerusalem.

Naturally no one could save Corbulo. Nero did not even wish to set eyes on him again. As soon as he stepped off the warship in Cenchreae, Corbulo received orders to commit suicide.

“If I had had the good fortune to live under other Emperors,” he said, “I should have conquered the whole world for Rome.”

And then he threw himself on his own sword on the quay, after requesting that it should be broken and the pieces thrown into the sea so that it should not fall into unworthy hands. Nevertheless I do not believe he was a good military leader, as was proved by his faulty judgment when the greatest opportunity of his military career came within his reach.

Nero had sufficient sense to resist his desire to hold a concert in Ecbatana. Skilled actor that he was, he succeeded in stumbling convincingly when he made an offering to the omens. Thus we could see with our own eyes that the immortal gods still did not wish Parthia quelled and it would be wisest to postpone the Parthian campaign to avoid devastating misfortunes. It was impossible anyhow, for Vespasian, since he had appeared and carefully acquired information on the Jews’ preparations for war, was demanding at least four legions if he was to capture Jerusalem.

So it was Flavius Vespasian whom Nero capriciously put at the head of the siege of Jerusalem. Vespasian protested, explaining that he was tired of war, he had won sufficient honors in Britain in his time and he regarded himself as an old man. He was perfectly content, he said, to be a member of two colleges of priests.

But, aging and even more unmusical than I, he had once started to nod when Nero was taking part in a singing competition. As a punishment, Nero gave him the task of enduring the trials of a troublesome and ignominious punitive campaign. Nero did weaken in the end when, confronted by Vespasian’s tears, he consoled him by telling him that he was to receive the opportunity of his life to enrich himself at the expense of the Jews. He would then be able to give up dealing in mules, which was unworthy of a senator, and would no longer need to complain of his poverty.

Everyone thought Vespasian’s appointment a sign of Nero’s madness, for Vespasian was despised to such an extent that even Nero’s favorite slaves were offensive to him whenever he showed himself at the Golden Palace. He was invited only once a year, on Nero’s birthday, and that favor cost him free asses for Poppaea and later for Statilia.

Vespasian was in no way involved in Eastern affairs, and it would never have occurred to anyone to suggest him as a member of any committee or confidential task in the Senate. On the other hand, Ostarius, whom Claudius had once mistakenly sent to Britain and who had done well there, would gladly have led the legions to quell the Jewish rebellion as he offered only too often. As a result, Nero became suspicious, with some justification, and ordered him to be executed. And Nero’s trust in Vespasian was increased by Vespasian’s opposition to accepting the assignment, regarding it as a punishment for his drowsiness which he did not cease to curse.

Nero himself was sufficiently doubtful about his choice that he demantled that Vespasian should take his son Titus with him. Titus had also done well in Britain and in his youth had once saved his father’s life. Nero hoped that Titus’ youthful eagerness would encourage Vespasian and help him to carry out the task of capturing Jerusalem within a reasonable time.

Nevertheless he urged Vespasian to avoid unnecessary losses, for he had heard about the strengthening of the walls of Jerusalem. Because of the city’s strategically advantageous position, even Pompey had found it difficult to capture, and Nero considered one could hardly mention the two in one breath.

In Corinth, I had the opportunity of again contacting my old commantler and strengthening our friendship by offering him free use as my guest of Hierex’ fine new house. Vespasian was grateful to me for this. I was the only nobleman on the whole journey who treated the war-weary and simple Vespasian with any decency at all.

I am not particularly prejudiced or fussy in my friends, as my life shows only too well. I regarded my happy youth under his command in Britain as sufficient reason to exchange his rough friendliness then with hospitality which cost me nothing.

I should also mention that I had done everything to spare the Flavians during the Pisonian conspiracy, however difficult this had been in face of Flavius Scevinus’ murder plot. Fortunately he belonged to the worst branch of the Flavian family. I had informed on him, so had a certain right to put in a good word for the other Flavians.

Vespasian never even came under suspicion, for he was so poor he could hardly keep himself in the Senate. I had transferred one of my country properties to his name when the Censors remarked that he no longer fulfilled the conditions of wealth. Anyhow everyone knew him to be an honest man and not even the most wretched informer considered it worth putting his name on a list.

I say all this to show what old and enduring ties I had with the Flavians and how much Vespasian valued my friendship even at the time when one of Nero’s slaves might spit at his feet without being punished, despite his rank of senator and consul. There was no selfishness or self-interest in my friendship. I had long since forgotten the dream I had had when I had been put into a deep sleep by the Druids, though naturally no one believes this. I am regarded as a man who always sees to his own advantage, as can be seen in your friend’s verse too.

At Hierex’ house I had a good opportunity to establish again that “some people are like unpolished jewels in that they can hide brilliant qualities beneath a rough exterior,” as your bearded young friend Decimus Juvenal recently wrote to flatter Emperor Vespasian. I know his kind very well. He has every reason to strive for the Emperor’s favor, for his unwarranted language and insolent verses have caused offense. Not with me, for he is a friend of yours. As young people do, you admire people with the gift of a swift tongue. But remember you are four years younger than that unwashed scamp.

If I am sure of anything, then I am sure Juvenal’s indecent verses will not survive. I have seen so many more brilliant stars flare up and be extinguished. In addition his foolish drinking, his insolent tongue, his way of transforming night to day and his endless plucking at Egyptian tunes will extinguish the last spark of genuine poetry he might possess.

I am not writing this because you allowed me to see a verse a despicable youth had written lampooning me, but because I cannot with a clear conscience consider supporting his efforts by publishing them. I am not that simple. I am only seriously worried about you, my son.

In Corinth I gained Vespasian’s friendship to such an extent that before he went to Egypt to take over the two legions there at the time, he asked me to put my knowledge of Eastern affairs and my good connections with the Jews at his disposal and to accompany him into the field. I declined politely, for it was not really a war but a punitive expedition against rebellious subjects.

After Vespasian had gone, in order to keep his aims secret Nero had the Praetorian legions begin digging the canal at Corinth. This enterprise had already been begun on his orders some time before, but bad omens had forced him to stop. The holes had filled overnight with blood and in the darkness terrible cries, which carried right into the city and frightened the Corinthians, were heard. This is the absolute truth and not just gossip, for I have it from very reliable sources.

Hierex had managed to acquire profitable shares in the tracks along which the ships were hauled across the land. Obviously the owners of these tracks, who had invested large sums in the powerful slaves needed, did not regard the plan to dig a canal with particular approval, Hierex had access to plentiful supplies of fresh blood because in his water-cooled butcher’s shops he also sold meat to the Jews, and thus had to bleed the animals in the Jewish way before cutting up the meat.

He always had tubs of blood. Usually he used it to make blood-pancakes for the slaves in his copper foundry. But on the advice of his business friends, he offered several days’ income in a good cause and had all the blood taken at night and tipped into the holes dug for the canal. His friends arranged for the sighs and wails, which was easily done, as I once told you, when I had arranged for Tullia’s house, after considerable trouble, to become my legal property.

Naturally I did not tell Nero of what I had heard in Hierex’ house, and besides I had no reason to support the building of the canal either. When the Praetorians refused to do the work because of the bad omens and because physical work was distasteful to them, Nero ceremoniously went and dug the first hole with his own hands, watched by the Praetorian troops and the people of Corinth.

He lifted the first basket of earth to his Imperial shoulders and carried it bravely to its place on what was to be the canal bank. No blood was found in this hole and the nighdy wails ceased, so the Praetorians took courage and began to dig. The centurions helped them on with lashes, so that they themselves need not take up a shovel. This also meant that the Praetorians began to bear a bitter grudge against Nero, more so than against Tigellinus who used to punish them with ordinary marching exercises. They preferred to expend their energies on the road rather than with a spade.

After considering the matter carefully, I found valid reasons for telling Hierex to stop taking blood to the canal workings. I did not tell him my real reason; I simply told him that for the sake of his own health and because of Nero, he would be wise to bear the loss like a man.

Hierex followed my advice not only for its own sake but because Nero had begun to put guards there at night to stop people from trespassing in the canal area.

Hierex and his connections with the Jews in Corinth were enormously useful to me when, immediately after the news of the defeat of the legion in Judaea, I had warnings sent out to all the Christian Jews that they would be wise to keep quiet and preferably go into hiding. Nero sent orders to both Italy and all the provinces for the imprisonment and prosecution for treason of every Jewish agitator at the least sign of trouble.

It would be too much to expect that a Roman official would be able to differentiate between heavenly and earthly kingdoms, between Christs and other Messiahs, when it came to agitation. To Roman reasoning, the activities of the Christian Jews were simply political agitation under the cloak of religion. Matters were made worse after the many summary trials of the Christians by their calling Nero the anti-Christ whose appearance Jesus of Nazareth had prophesied. Nero did not in fact mind this nickname, but just said that the Christians obviously regarded him as a god equal to Christ as they honored him with such a splendid name.

In fact the weakness of the Christians lies in that they despise politics and avoid political activities, and instead direct all their hopes on an invisible kingdom, which as far as I can make out could not be any danger to the State. So when their leaders are dead, they will have no future in this world. Their faith will soon disappear because of their internal squabbles in which each man thinks his own beliefs are the true ones. I am convinced of this, whatever your mother says. Women have no political sense.

For my part, I have often talked myself hoarse on behalf of the Christians to demonstrate their political insignificance, whether they are circumcised or not. But it is impossible to explain this to a Roman who has had legal training and experience. He just shakes his head and regards the Christians as politically suspect all the same.

To my sorrow, I did not succeed in saving Paul whose restless temperament forced him to move continuously from country to country. I had received the latest news of him from my oil buyer in Emporiae, a prosperous harbor city which is beginning to become silted up on the north coast of Iberia. He had been driven from there by the faithful Jews in the city, but according to my informer, had not suffered severe injuries.

In Iberia, as in other places, he had been forced to content himself with preaching in the coastal cities which had been founded by the Greeks long ago and still used Greek as their main language, although laws and regulations were of course in Latin and engraved on copper tablets. There are many such large towns along the Iberian coast and thus plenty of opportunities for him to travel. The oil merchant said that he had sailed southward to Mainace, to reach western Iberia, for his restlessness had not lessened.

So he has only himself to blame that my warning did not reach him. He was imprisoned in Troy in Asiatic Bithnya so suddenly that his papers, books and traveling cloak were left in his lodgings. I suppose he had been forced to visit Asia to encourage his converts, whom he thought were being enticed away by wandering preachers. At least he bitterly called many of them lie-prophets-even those who like himself spoke in the name of Christ-though of course they were not so well versed in the divine mysteries as he.

When the news of Paul’s whereabouts arrived in Rome, Cephas’ hiding place was immediately revealed; Paul’s followers thought they owed that to their teacher. Cephas had received my warning in time and left Rome for Puteoli, but had turned back again at the fourth milestone on the via Appia. As a reason, he gave that Jesus of Nazareth had appeared to him in all his glory, which he well remembered and recognized. “Where are you going?” Jesus had asked him. Cephas replied that he had fled from Rome. Then Jesus had said: “Then I myself shall go to Rome to be crucified for the second time.”

Cephas was ashamed and humbly turned back to Rome, although happy to have once again seen his master. In his simplicity, during his journeys with Jesus of Nazareth, Cephas had been the first of all the disciples to recognize and acknowledge him as the Son of God. Because of this, his master had become so attached to him that he called him his chief disciple, not just because of his great strength of body and mind as many still believe.

I am telling you what I have heard, but there are also other versions. The essential thing, however, was that Cephas had experienced a vision of some kind on the via Appia and this helped him toward a final reconciliation with Paul before their deaths. Paul himself had, of course, never set eyes on Jesus of Nazareth. Indeed, prompted by a certain envy, Cephas had once said, concerning Paul’s vision, that he did not need to invent stories, since he had known Jesus of Nazareth while he had lived on earth. But these words were spoken when their dispute was at its height. Later, after he had himself experienced a vision, Cephas was ashamed of his accusation and had asked Paul to forgive him.

I was sorry for this simple fisherman who after ten years in Rome still had not learned enough Latin or Greek to be able to manage without an interpreter. This caused a great many misunderstandings. It is even said that he used to quote inaccurately or at least carelessly from the holy scripts of the Jews as with their help he tried to show that Jesus of Nazareth was the true Messiah or Christ, just as if that were important to those who believed he was so. But the Christian Jews have a deep desire to show their learning, disputing over words and their meaning and always referring to their holy scripts.

It would be a good thing to translate them gradually into Latin, so that they would then have an indisputably valid form. Our language is suited to such things. It would put an end to all these insufferable disputes on the correct meaning of words which bring only headaches with them.

But I must return to my story. Out of the inner circle of Jesus of Nazareth’s followers, I managed to save a certain Johannes, who had fled to Ephesus to avoid the persecution of the Jews. I myself have never met him, but he is said to be a mild and gentle man who spends his time writing his memoirs and making speeches of reconciliation to lessen the disunity among the Jews. My father liked him very much. He was denounced during this time of treachery and envy, but the Proconsul in Asia happened to be a friend of mine and contented himself with banishing him temporarily to an island.

I was surprised to hear that there he had written accounts of several stormy visions he had had, although he is said to have calmed down after being allowed to return to Ephesus.

Nero punished the members of the committee for Eastern affairs by sending us back to Rome to see that the Jews there did not rise in armed rebellion. He said derisively that we could perhaps manage that, even if otherwise we had lack of ability. He could not dismiss us from the committee, since that was the Senate’s business, but to please him the Senate made certain changes, although it was hard to find new men who were prepared to sacrifice their time for this thankless task.

So I was no longer on the committee when Nero proclaimed Achaia a free kingdom and returned Greece’s independence to her. The political circumstances were not changed by this, as I had experienced in my youth when I had been a tribune in Corinth. On the other hand the Greeks would now have to choose their own governor, pay for their own campaigns and dig their own canals. Despite this, the measure roused immense joy among the short-sighted Greeks.

I noticed that Nero did not once mention the Roman Senate, but made it clear that Nero and Nero alone had been able to carry out such a declaration of independence. We had heard with our own ears, at the introduction of the building of the Corinthian canal, that Nero hoped that this great enterprise would bring fortune to Achaia and the Roman people, with no mention of the Senate, although this should always be said in official speeches. The correct expression is “the Senate and people of Rome” and so it will always be, however the times change.

So it was not surprising that I began to feel that Orcus was guiding my feet and that Charon was breathing coldly down my neck as I followed the Jews to their death. Many another farsighted senator had felt the same way, although nothing had been said, for who could trust anyone any longer? For safety’s sake, one of us always took a reserve of a million sesterces in gold on a cart when we traveled anywhere.

Nero did not even let us meet him in Naples. He wished to begin his triumphal procession to Rome from there since it was in the theater in Naples that he had first performed in public. Instead of a triumph in the ordinary sense, he wished to make his return to Rome into an artistic procession of triumph to give the people pleasure and a few free days. In itself this was politically wise, especially since the campaigns in the East had failed, but we were not pleased that we had to pull down part of the city wall for his procession. No victor had ever demantled such an honor before, not even Augustus himself at his triumphs. We thought Nero was beginning to show some unpleasant signs of an Eastern autocrat. That will not do for Rome, whatever an unwashed scamp of a boy writes on the decay of our customs.

Not only we, but the people too, and I mean of course all right-thinking citizens, shook our heads at the sight of Nero in Augustus’ sacred triumphal chariot, driving through the breach in the city wall and then straight through the city, followed by wagon-loads of victory wreaths, and instead of soldiers, guard of honor of actors, musicians, singers and dancers from all over the world. Instead of battles, he had had artists paint great canvases and sculpt groups of figures rep-presenting his victories in different singing competitions. He himself was dressed in a purple cloak covered with golden stars and had a double Olympic olive wreath on his head.

In honor of Nero it must also be said that he followed the ancient custom of humbly mounting the steep steps on the Capitoline on his knees to dedicate his best victory wreaths not only to Jupiter Custos, but also to the other important gods of Rome, Juno and Venus. All the same, there were enough wreaths left to cover all the walls of the reception rooms and the circular banqueting hall in the Golden Palace.

Nero’s return home, nevertheless, was not quite so agreeable as an outsider might have thought. Statilia Messalina was a spoiled and weak woman, but a woman all the same, and she would not tolerate Nero giving Sporus exactly the same marital rights as herself, so that he could exchange marital beds according to his whim of the moment. They quarreled so violently that it resounded throughout the Palace, but with Poppaea’s fate still fresh in his mind, Nero dared not kick his wife, and Statilia made the most of this. After a while, in his anger, Nero demantled his victory wreaths back from Juno, and other things which he could not do. In the end he banished Statilia to Antium, but that turned out to be only to her advantage.

Statilia Messalina relives that day today and grieves for Nero, remembering his good points, as befits a widow. She often demonstratively decorates the Domitians’ modest mausoleum, which can easily be seen by Mars field from the Pincian hill, near Lucullus’ gardens, where in my youth I saw the cherry trees bloom with Nero and Agrippina.

Nero’s bones rest in the tomb of the Domitians, it is said. There has been a good deal of trouble in the Eastern provinces over his memory. The people do not believe he is dead, but imagine he will come back again to remind us that his rule was a time of happiness compared with today’s tax-burdened State cupidity.

Now and again an escaped slave appears in the East, proclaiming he is Nero and, of course, the Parthians are always glad to support such attempts at rebellion. We have crucified two false Neros. They were asked to demonstrate their identity by singing, but neither of them proved a singer of Nero’s quality. Anyhow, Statilia remembers him with flowers and decorates his tomb, if it is Nero’s tomb.

Again I had postponed the matter which I find hard to recount by speaking of something else. Thanks to Nero’s triumph and his other political duties, I succeeded in postponing the executions for a long time. But finally the day dawned when we had to put the long-since determined death sentences before Nero. If I had found yet another excuse to postpone them, I myself would have been suspected of being pro-Jewish, even by my colleagues.

To clear our reputation, we in the committee for Eastern affairs had made a thorough investigation into the actual situation within the Jewish colony in Rome and its danger to the security of the State after the Jewish uprising in Jerusalem. Many of us had grown wealthier during these profitable activities. With a clear conscience we could lay a reassuring account before Nero and the Senate.

By a narrow majority we managed to convince the Senate that there should be no real persecution of the Jews, but that we should be content with weeding out suspected elements and talkative agitators. Our suggestion was based on sound reason and was accepted, despite the hatred of the Jews the rebellion in Jerusalem had aroused. To be truthful, I used my own means in preparing the case, because Claudia had so many Jewish Christian friends. For instance, Aquila with his crooked nose and brave Prisca would have certainly been taken with the rest. But I am a hardhearted man, a miser, a rogue who always manages to save himself and for whom your best friend Juvenal has not a good word. I expect my friends pay him well for copies of his verses. There is no joy among human beings like malicious joy. Let us rejoice then, you and I, that your bearded friend can at least pay his debts thanks to me, and without it costing me a thing.

If I were as avaricious as he maintains, then naturally I should buy that cursed verse from him and allow my own publisher to reap the profits. But I am not like Vespasian, who even taxed the water a man makes. We once were discussing funerals, and he asked us how much we thought his funeral would cost the State treasury. We calculated that the ceremonies would come to at least ten million sesterces, a calculation which was not just a compliment but could be proved with the clear figures. Vespasian sighed heavily and said: “Give me a hundred thousand now and you can throw my ashes in the Tiber.”

Naturally we then had to collect a hundred thousand sesterces in his old-fashioned straw hat, so the meal was an expensive one and the food had been nothing to boast about either. Vespasian loves simple honest customs and his own fresh country wine. For the sake of my position, I have many a time had to contribute to the building of his amphitheater. It will be the wonder of the world, and Nero’s Golden Palace will be nothing but a spoiled youth’s finicky mess in comparison.

Why do I keep postponing my story time and time again? It is like having a tooth extracted. Swiftly and speedily, Minutus, and then it is over. And I am not guilty. I did everything I could for them, and no man can do more than that. No power on earth could have saved the lives of Paul and Cephas. Cephas returned to Rome of his own free will, although he could well have gone into hiding through the worst time.

I know that nowadays everyone uses Cephas’ Latin name, Petrus, but I prefer to use his old name which is dear to me. Petrus is a translation of Cephas, which means rock and which name he received from Jesus of Nazareth. I don’t know why. Cephas was no rock in mind; indeed, he was a rough and touchy man who on some occasions behaved in a cowardly way. He even denied all knowledge of Jesus of Nazareth on that last night, and in Antioch he behaved anything but courageously in face of Jacob’s representative who regarded it as a crime against the Jewish laws that he ate with the uncircumcised. But all the same, Cephas was an unforgettable person, or perhaps because of this. How can one know?

It is said of Paul now that he had taken the name Sergius Paulus because Sergius, who was governor of Cyprus, was the most important man he converted. That is quite without foundation. Paul changed his name from Saul long before he met Sergius and only because in Greek it means the insignificant one, the worthless one, just as does my own name Minutus in Latin.

When my father gave me my despicable name, he could have had no idea that he was making me Paul’s namesake. Perhaps it was in part my name which made me begin to write down these memoirs, to show that I am not quite such an insignificant man as I seem. The main reason, however, is because I am here at this resort, drinking mineral water, the physicians watching over my stomach trouble, and at first I could not find any other outlet to satisfy my need for activity. I also thought that you might find it useful to know at least something about your father when you one day come to wall in my ashes in the tomb in Caere.

During Cephas’ and Paul’s long imprisonment, I saw to it that they were well treated, and I arranged for them to meet and talk together, if under guard. As dangerous public enemies they had to be imprisoned in Tullianum, away from the anger of the people. That is not an especially healthy place, although Tullianum naturally has glorious traditions of many hundreds of years’ standing. Jugurtha was strangled there, and there too Vercingetorix’ head was crushed, and Catilina’s friends lost their lives there, and Sejanus’ little daughter was violated there before her execution as the laws prescribe, since Romans never execute a virgin.

Paul seemed to fear a painful death, but in such cases Nero was not small-minded, although he was angry about the Jewish rebellion and regarded all Jewish agitators as to blame for it. Paul was a citizen and had a legal right to be executed by the sword, a right the judges did not question at his last trial. Cephas was sentenced to be crucified according to the law, although I had no wish to inflict such a death on an old man and a friend of my father’s.

I made sure that I could accompany them on their last journey on the fresh summer morning they were taken away to be executed. I had arranged that no other Jews should be crucified at the same time. There were constant crowds on the execution places because of the Jews, but I wanted Paul and Cephas to be allowed to die alone with dignity.

At the road fork to Ostia I had to choose with whom I should go, for it had been decided that Paul would be taken to the same gate at which my father and Tullia had been executed. The judges had ordained that Cephas be taken through the Jewish quarter of the city as a warning and then crucified on the execution place for slaves near Nero’s amphitheater.

Paul was accompanied by his friend the physician Lucas, and I knew Paul would not be offended, for he was a citizen. Cephas needed my protection much more, and I feared too for his companions, Marcus and Linus. So I chose Cephas.

I need not have worried about demonstrations from the Jews. Apart from a few lumps of clay, Cephas had nothing thrown at him. The Jews were very Jewish, and despite their bitter hatred, contented themselves with silently watching a Jewish agitator being taken away to be crucified because of the rebellion in Jerusalem. Cephas had the usual plaque around his neck on which was inscribed in Greek and Latin: Simon Petrus from Capernaum, Galilean, enemy of the people and mankind.

When we had left the city and reached the gardens, the heat began to be oppressive. I saw beads of sweat running down Cephas’ wrinkled forehead and ordered the crossbar of the cross to be taken from him and given to an approaching Jew to carry. The soldiers had a right to do this. I then told Cephas to join me in my sedan for the last stretch, without a thought for the talk this would give rise to afterwards.

But Cephas would not have been Cephas if he had not brusquely replied that he could carry the cross on his broad shoulders to the very end without help. He did not want to sit at my side but preferred, he said, to feel the dust of the road beneath his feet for the last time, and the heat of the sun on his head, in the same way as he had felt them long ago when he had traveled with Jesus of Nazareth along the paths of Galilee. He did not even wish the rope by which he was being led to be loosened, but said that Jesus of Nazareth had foretold this and he did not want to bring shame on the prophecy. Nevertheless he leaned wearily on his worn shepherd’s stave.

When we reached the execution place, which was stinking in the heat of the sun, I asked Cephas if he would like to be scourged first This was a merciful measure to hasten on death, although many barbarians misunderstand this. Cephas replied that scourging would not be necessary, for he had his own plans, but then he changed his mind and said humbly that he would like to go to the end in the same way as many witnesses had before him. Jesus of Nazareth had also been scourged.

But he was in no hurry. I saw a brief smile in his eyes as he turned to his companions, Marcus and Linus.

“Listen, both of you,” he said. “Listen, Marcus, although I have repeated the same thing to you many times before. Listen too, Minutus, if you wish to. Jesus said, ‘The kingdom of God is as when a man sows a seed in the earth, and sleeps and rises, nights and days, and the seed germinates and grows, but he himself does not know how. From the earth, the seed brings forth by itself first the straw, then the ear and then fills the ear with the corn. But when the seed is ripe, he sends the reaper, for then the harvest time has come.’”

He shook his head incredulously, with tears of joy in his eyes, and he laughed joyously.

“And I, foolish creature that I am,” he cried, “did not understand, although I constantly repeated his words. Now I understand at last. The seed is ripe and the reaper is here.”

With a glance at me, he blessed Linus, and passed him his worn stave.

“Watch over my sheep,” he said.

It was as if he wished me to see this and be witness to it. Then he humbly turned to the soldiers, who tied him to a pole and began to scourge him.

Despite his great strength, he could not refrain from groaning. At the lashes of the scourge and the sound of his voice, one of the Jews who had been crucified the day before awoke from his death throes, opened his feverish eyes so that the flies rose, and recognized Cephas, and even then could not refrain from mocking Jesus of Nazareth’s statement that he was Christ. But Cephas was in no mood for discussion.

Instead he told the soldiers, after the scourging, that he should be crucified with his head downward. He did not feel worthy of the honor of being crucified with his head facing heaven as his Lord Jesus, the Son of God, had been. I had to hide a smile.

To the very end Cephas remained the genuine Cephas, whose sound fisherman’s sense was needed to build the kingdom. I realized why Jesus of Nazareth had loved him. In that moment, I loved him myself. It is incomparably easier for an old man to die if he is crucified upside down so that the blood runs to his head and bursts his veins. A merciful unconsciousness will then save him from many hours of suffering.

The soldiers burst out laughing and gladly agreed to his request, for they realized that in this way they would escape guard duty in the heat. As he hung on the cross, Cephas opened his mouth and seemed to attempt to sing something, although I thought he had no great cause to do so.

I asked Marcus what it was that Cephas was trying to say. Marcus told me that Cephas was singing a psalm in which God was leading his faithful to green meadows and refreshing springs. To my joy, Cephas did not have to wait long for his green meadows. After he had lost consciousness, we waited for a while as his body writhed and jerked, and then, impatient with the smell and the flies, I told the centurion to do his duty. He had a soldier break Cephas’ shinbone with a sharp-edged board and himself thrust his sword into Cephas’ neck as he jokingly said that this was slaughter in the Jewish way, in which the blood must be let out before life has gone. A great deal of blood flowed out of the old man. Marcus and Linus promised to see to it that his body was buried in what is now an unused burial ground behind the amphitheater not far away. Linus wept, but Marcus had already wept his tears and was an even-tempered and reliable man. He retained his calm, but his eyes were looking into another world which I could not see.

You must be wondering why I chose to go with Cephas rather than Paul. Paul was at least a Roman citizen and Cephas only an old Jewish fisherman. Perhaps my behavior shows that I do not always act in my own self-interest. Personally I liked Cephas better because he was a sincere and simple man, and in addition, Claudia would never have permitted me to abandon them on their last journey. I do anything for peace at home.

Later I quarreled with Lucas when he demantled to see the Aramaic story which I had inherited from my father and which was written by a customs official, I did not give it to him. Lucas had had two years to talk to eyewitnesses while Paul was in prison in Caesarea in Proconsul Felix* time. I did not think I owed him anything.

Lucas was not such a skilled physician either, although he had studied in Alexandria. I should never have let him treat my own stomach complaint. I suspect that he followed Paul so eagerly because of Paul’s faith-healing, either to learn this art himself or with humble insight into his own shortcomings as a physician. But he could write, though only in the dialect of the market, not in educated Greek.

I have always liked Marcus very much, but Linus, who is younger, has become even dearer to me with the years. In spite of everything, I have been forced to put the Christians’ internal affairs in some kind of order, both for their own sake and to escape official trouble. Cephas in his time introduced certain divisions according to tribes and tried to reconcile their internal quarrels, but an ignorant man such as he cannot possess any real political ability.

I have paid for Cletus’ legal training, in memory of his brave conduct in the Praetorian camp. Perhaps one day he will succeed in establishing satisfactory order among the Christians. Then you would be able to get political support from them. But I have no great hopes of litem. They are what they are.

I am stronger now and the physicians are hopeful. Soon I shall return to Rome from this sulphurous resort, of which I am heartily tired. Naturally I have been keeping an eye on my most important affairs, though the physicians have been unaware of this. But it will be wonderful to taste good wine again, and after all this fasting and water drinking, I shall value the skills of my two cooks more than before. So I will hurry on now, as the worst is over.

When I heard about Julius Vindex’ secret ventures as propraetor, I read the signs of the times without hesitating. I had already realized long before that Piso could have succeeded if only his conceit had not made him despise the support of the legions. After the sudden deaths of Corbulo and Ostarius, the legion commantlers at last began to awaken from their slumber and understand that neither military honors nor unconditional loyalty would save anyone from Nero’s caprices. I had seen this when I left Corinth.

I hurriedly began to sell my property through my bankers and freedmen and to collect cash in gold pieces. Naturally these deals, the reason for which many sensible men did not yet realize, attracted attention among those better informed. I had nothing against that, for I was relying entirely on Nero’s ignorance in money matters.

My actions aroused a certain anxiety in Rome, for the prices of apartments and also of country properties fell considerably. I sold more properties recklessly, although the money is safe in the soil and even makes a profit as long as the cultivation is in the hands of reliable freedmen. I did not bother about the falling prices but went on selling and collecting cash. I knew that one day, if I succeeded in my plan, I should retrieve it all again. The anxiety caused by my activities made financiers reassess the political situation, and in this way I also helped on a good thing.

I sent Claudia and you to my property near Caere and for once made Claudia listen to me and stay there in safety until I sent for her again. As your third birthday was approaching, your mother was very busy. You were not a good boy, and to speak frankly I was tired of your constant running about and noise. As soon as I turned my back, you either fell into a pond or cut yourself. So this too meant I was pleased to go on my journey to secure your future. Because of Claudia, I could not form your character and had to rely on your heredity. Genuine self-discipline always rises from within, and cannot be forced from outside.

It was not difficult to get permission from the Senate and Nero to leave the city and go to Vespasian as his adviser on Jewish matters. On the contrary, I was praised for my willingness to do my best for the State. Nero himself thought that some trustworthy person should keep an eye on Vespasian and get him moving, for he suspected Vespasian of loitering unnecessarily outside the walls of Jerusalem.

As I was a senator, a warship was put at my disposal. Many of my colleagues probably wondered why such a comfort-loving man as myself was content to sleep in a hammock at night, not to mention the wretched food, cramped space and eternal lice of the fleet.

But I had my own reasons. I was so relieved to have at last got my twenty heavy iron chests on board ship that I slept like a log the first night, until the tramp of bare feet on deck woke me. I had three faithful freedmen with me, who took turns in guarding my chests, as well as the usual military guard.

In Caere, I had also armed my slaves, trusting in their loyalty to me. I was not disappointed. Otho’s soldiers did plunder my farm and smash my collection of Greek jars, the value of which they did not realize, but they did not harm either you or Claudia, and this was due to my slaves. There are still innumerable unopened graves in the ground, so I can probably replace my collection of jars.

Fortunately we had good weather, for the autumn storms had not yet begun. I hurried on the journey as much as I could by distributing extra rations of food and wine to the galley slaves at my own expense, however mad this seemed to the naval centurion who relied more on his whip and knew that he could easily replace any slaves he lost en route with Jewish prisoners. I had other reasons. I think one can make people do what one wants with good rather than evil. But I have always been unnecessarily softhearted, as my father was. Remember that I have never once struck you, my insubordinate son. How could I possibly strike a future Emperor?

To pass the time I asked many questions about the fleet during the journey. Among other things I was told why marines, both on board and ashore, had to go barefooted. This I had not known before, but I have wondered about it sometimes. I thought it had something to do with seamanship.

Now I learned how Emperor Claudius had once in the amphitheater been angry when some marines from Ostia, spreading out a sunshade above the spectators’ seats in the middle of a performance, began to demand compensation from him for the marching shoes they had worn out on the way there. So Claudius forbade the use of shoes in the entire fleet and ever since then his orders have been faithfully obeyed. We Romans respect our traditions.

Later on I happened to mention the matter to Vespasian, but he considers it best for the seamen to continue barefoot since they are used to it. It has not done them any harm hitherto. “Why create more expenses in the already huge naval budget?” he said. Thus naval centurions still consider it an honor to go barefooted on duty, although they like to wear soft parade boots on their feet during leaves on shore.

It was a great weight off my mind when I eventually put my valuable chests in the keeping of a well-known banker in Caesarea, safe from the dangers of the sea. Bankers have to trust one another, or no reasonable business life would be possible. Thus I trusted this man although

I knew him only through letters. But his father had in my father’s youth been my father’s banker in Alexandria or had at least sold him travel documents. So we were in a way business friends.

Caesarea was at peace in the sense that the Greek inhabitants had taken the opportunity to kill the city’s Jews, women and small children as well. So there was no trace of the revolt to be seen in the city, except considerable shipping activity and guarded mule caravans carrying equipment to the legions outside Jerusalem. Joppa and Caesarea were the two most important harbors supporting Vespasian.

On the way to Vespasian’s camp outside Jerusalem, I saw how hopeless the situation was for the Jewish civilians who were still left. The Samaritans had also joined in and had cleared their decks. The legionaries themselves did not differentiate between Galileans and Samaritans and Jews in general. Fertile Galilee with its million inhabitants was devastated, to the lasting injury of the Roman kingdom. Of course it did not officially belong to us but had been handed over to Herodes Agrippa to rule because of old ties of friendship.

I took this matter up first when I met Vespasian and Titus. They received me wholeheartedly, for they were curious to know what was happening in Gaul and Rome. Vespasian told me that the legionaries were angry about the fierce resistance the Jews were offering and that they had suffered severe losses from fanatics attacking the roads from their hiding places in the mountains. He had been forced to give his commantlers authority to create peace in the countryside, and a punitive expedition was on its way to destroy one of the Jewish strongpoints by the Dead Sea. Arrows had been shot from the towers and according to reliable sources, injured fanatics had sought refuge there.

I took the opportunity to read them a brief lecture on the Jewish faith and customs and to explain that it was obviously a question of one of the Essene sect’s closed houses into which they withdrew for religious exercises because they did not wish to pay taxes to the temple. The Essenes sought to retreat from the world and were hostile to Jerusalem rather than friendly. There was no reason to persecute them.

They were supported by certain peaceable people in the country who neither could nor wished to be initiated completely, but preferred to lead their modest family lives without harming anyone. If one of these people took in an injured fanatic seeking protection and gave him food and water, then he did this for religious reasons and not in support of the rebellion. From what I had heard from my companions on the journey, these people had also given shelter and food to wounded Roman legionaries and bound up their wounds. So I felt they should not be killed without reason.

Vespasian muttered that in Britain I had not been particularly knowledgeable about warfare, so he had preferred to send me out on pleasure trips about the country and give me the rank of tribune when my father became a senator, more from political reasons than for gain. However, I succeeded in convincing him that it was not worth killing the Jewish country people or burning their humble homes just because they took care of the wounded.

Titus agreed with me, for he was much taken with Herodes Agrip-pa’s sister, Berenice, so was interested in the Jews. Berenice lived inces-tuously with her brother, in the hereditary manner of the Herodians, but Titus said that in that case he must learn to understand the customs of the Jews. He seemed to have hopes that Berenice’s great love for her brother would cool and she would begin to visit him in his comfortable field tent, at least at night when no one would see her. This was a matter I did not think I could become involved in.

I was deeply hurt by Vespasian’s contemptuous words about my travels in Britain. So I remarked that if he had nothing against it, I should like to set out on a similar pleasure trip into Jerusalem to view the defenses of the besieged city with my own eyes and find the cracks which might possibly exist in the strength of the Jews.

It was important to know how many disguised Parthian mercenaries were there to lead the work of strengthening the walls. The Parthians had had a great deal of experience of sieges and defense in Armenia. In any case there were Parthian bowmen in Jerusalem, for it was not advisable to wander within range of the walls. I was not so ignorant of matters of warfare that I believed that inexperienced Jews could suddenly have learned this frightening skill with bow and arrow.

My suggestion made an impression on Vespasian. He peered at me, passed his hand over his mouth and laughingly explained that he could not possibly take the responsibility for a Roman senator’s exposing himself to such danger, if I meant it seriously. If I were taken prisoner then the Jews would demand concessions of him. If I lost my life ignomini-ously, then this would bring shame on Rome and on him. Nero might take it into his head that he had deliberately rid himself of one of Nero’s personal friends.

He looked at me craftily, but I knew his cunning little ways. So I replied that for the good of the State, friendship must stand aside. He had no reason to insult me by calling me a friend of Nero’s. In this respect we need hide nothing from each other. Rome and the future of the fatherland were our guiding lights on the battlefield, where the corpses stank, the carrion birds gorged and legionaries hung like sun-dried sacks from the walls of Jerusalem.

I raised my voice rhetorically as I was in the habit of doing in the Senate. Vespasian patted me on the back in a friendly way with his broad peasant hand and assured me that he in no way doubted my motives and put his trust in my patriotism. Naturally he had not even imagined that I was going to slip into Jerusalem to betray his military secrets; I could not be that mad. But on the torture racks not even a strong man can keep his mouth shut, and the Jews had shown themselves to be skillful interrogators when it came to getting information. He regarded it as his first duty to protect my life and my safety, once I had voluntarily put myself under his protection.

He introduced me to his adviser Josephus, a Jewish rebel leader who had betrayed his friends when they had all decided to commit suicide rather than fall into Roman hands. Josephus had allowed his friends to die and had then surrendered, saving his life by prophesying that one day Vespasian would be Emperor. As a joke, Vespasian had had golden shackles put on him and promised to release him if his prophecy came true. Later, when he was freed, he insolently called himself Flavius Josephus.

From the very first I took an instant dislike to this despicable traitor, and the literary reputation he has since acquired has in no way altered my opinion, in fact to the contrary. In his foolish voluminous work on the Jewish rebellion he overestimates, in my view, the significance of many events, and is much too long-winded in his accounts of details.

My criticism is not in the slightest influenced by the fact that he found no reason to include my name in his book, although it was solely due to me that the siege was continued, once I had seen the circumstances within the walls with my own eyes. It would have been mad for Vespasian, in this political situation, to use his well-trained legions for useless attacks against the unexpectedly strong walls, when a siege and starvation brought about the same result. Unnecessary losses would have made him unpopular with the legionaries, which would have not suited my intentions at all.

But I have never longed for recognition in history, so this despicable Jew’s silence concerning my contribution is unimportant. I never bear grudges toward inferior people and do not usually avenge insults, as long as I am not tempted by an unusually favorable opportunity. I am only human.

Through one of my freedmen, I even offered to publish Flavius Josephus’ books, both The Jewish War and his accounts of the history and customs of the Jews, however many inaccuracies there are in them, but Josephus said that he preferred a Jewish publisher, despite the advantageous conditions I had offered. Later I had a shortened, unauthorized version of The Jewish War brought out, for the book seemed to go very well. My freedmen had his family and his old mother to support, so I did not oppose this suggestion of his, fox someone else would have done the same thing.

I really mention Josephus only because he servilely agreed with Vespasian and opposed my views. He laughed scornfully and said that I obviously did not know what a wasp’s nest I was thinking of sticking my head into. If I somehow got inside the walls of Jerusalem, then I would never get out again alive. After many objections and much prevarication, he nevertheless found me a map of the city. I learned it off by heart while my beard was growing.

A beard in itself is no safe disguise, for the legionaries had followed their fierce opponents’ example and let their beards grow and Vespasian had not punished them for it. He even allowed a legionary to exchange a flogging for a fine. This was one of the reasons why he was so popular, but it was also difficult for him to maintain Roman army regulations in the field, for his own son Titus had cultivated a silky beard to please the lovely Berenice.

Saying that I must find the safest place in which to make my way into the city, I went on a long excursion around Jerusalem and was careful to remain more or less within range of the enemy’s bows and war machines, though naturally I did not risk my life unnecessarily. I had my own reasons for this because of you. So I dressed in strong armor and a helmet, although this equipment made me pant for breath and sweat profusely. But during those days I lost pounds of weight from my plump body so that the straps soon loosened. It did me nothing but good.

On my wanderings I found the Jewish execution place where Jesus of Nazareth had been crucified. The diminutive hill was indeed shaped like a skull, as I had been told, and had received its name from that. I looked for the rocky tomb from which Jesus of Nazareth had risen from the dead on the third day, and it was not difficult to find because the besiegers had cleared the ground and torn up all the bushes so that spies could not sneak out of the city. I found many rocky tombs but could not be certain which of them was the right one, for my father’s account had been vague in these details.

As I dragged myself on, my lungs heaving and armor rattling, the legionaries laughed at me and assured me I should not find a blind angle which would have allowed me to approach right up to the wall in safety, since the Parthians had helped the Jews fortify Jerusalem very skillfully. The legionaries were not very keen to protect me with a shield-roof because these tortoises were usually showered with molten lead from the wall. They asked mockingly why I was not wearing a horsehair plume on my helmet, or my purple band. But I was not that mad, and since I respected the Parthian bowmen, I left my red boots in my tent to avoid boasting of my rank.

I shall always remember the sight of the temple of Jerusalem as it shone on its mountain, high up above the walls, dreamily blue in the morning light, red as blood when the sun had already set in the valley. Herodes’ temple was in truth one of the wonders of the world. After years and years of work it had finally been completed shortly before its destruction. No human eye will ever see it again. It was the Jews’ own fault that it vanished. I did not wish to be part of its destruction.

Certain religious speculations to which I had been devoting myself at that time were naturally due to the fact that I knew I was risking my life for your future and so became softhearted in a manner un-suited to a man of my age. When I thought of Jesus of Nazareth and the Christians, I decided that I should help them to the best of my ability to free themselves from the deadweight of the Jews, which they still, despite Paul and Cephas, dragged along like fetters.

Not that I really believed the Christians had a political future, even under the best possible Emperor, for they were too hostile and disunited among themselves. But because of my father I have a certain weakness for Jesus of Nazareth and his teaching. When my stomach complaint was at its worst, about a year ago, I was even prepared to acknowledge him as the Son of God and the Savior of mankind, if he had mercy on me.

During the evenings I often drank from my mother’s worn old goblet, for I felt I should need all possible luck on my dangerous enterprise. Vespasian still had his grandmother’s buckled old silver goblet and he remembered my plain wooden mug from our time in Britain and admitted that he had begun to feel a paternal friendliness toward me then, because I respected the souvenir of my mother and had not brought silver dishes and gold goblets with me on active service, as many wealthy young knights did when they began their military careers. Such behavior only tempts the enemy and provides loot for the plunderer. As a sign of our lasting friendship, we took turns drinking from our sacred family goblets, for I had good reason to let Vespasian sip from Fortuna’s goblet. He would need all the luck he could find.

I brooded over whether I should dare dress in Jewish costume when I went into the city, but then thought it would be overdoing it, although numerous Jewish merchants had been crucified all over the camp as a warning against stealing up to the walls after dark and passing information on our plans and new military machines.

I wore my helmet, chest harness, armor and leg guards on the day when I finally scrambled to the wall at the place I had decided on. I thought such equipment would protect me from the first blows if I got inside the city. Our guard posts had had orders to send a shower of arrows after me, and by making a great deal of noise, draw the Jews’ attention to my attempt.

They did as they had been ordered so well that I was hit in my heel by an arrow and ever since then have been lame in both legs. I decided to seek out that all too zealous bowman if I returned alive and see to it that he received the severest possible punishment for disobeying clear orders. He had had orders to shoot beyond me, if also as close as possible. But when I finally did return, I was so pleased that I did not bother to find the man, and also my wound contributed to the fact that the Jews believed my story.

After abusing me for a while, the Jews fought off with stones and arrows a Roman patrol trying to pursue and capture me. During this attempt, to my great sorrow, two honest legionaries were killed, and I took it upon myself to support their families later on. They belonged to the 15th legion which had come all the way from Pannonia and they never again saw their beloved muddy banks of the Danube, but died for me in the land of the Jews, which they had already had time to curse a thousand times over.

At my entreaties, the Jews finally lowered a basket from the wall and pulled me up in it. I was so frightened in the swaying basket that I managed to pull the arrow out of my heel without feeling any pain. The barbs, however, stuck in the wound, which soon began to fester, and on my return to the camp I had to seek the help of the field surgeon, roaring with pain as a result, which is probably why I have been lame ever since. My previous experience with field surgeons had been bad enough and should have been a warning to me. But those scars were my only hope. After venting their anger at my Roman attire, they at last gave me an opportunity to explain that I was circumcised and a convert to Judaism. This they at once confirmed, after which they treated me somewhat better. But I do not like to remember the Parthian centurion, dressed as a Jew, and his fierce interrogation to determine my identity and the truth of my story before he considered he could hand me over to the real Jews,

I shall only mention that torn-out thumbnails grow again quite quickly. I know that from experience. My thumbnails however were not counted as service merit. In such cases military regulations are absurd, for I had much more trouble from my thumbnails than from my excursions around the walls within range of the catapults. Such things are counted as service merits.

To the fanatics’ Council I could produce a testimonial and a secret authority to negotiate from the Julius Caesar synagogue. These valuable papers I had hidden in my clothes and had naturally not shown to Vespasian, for I had been given them in confidence. The Parthian could not read them either, for they were written in the sacred language of the Jews and sealed with the Star of David.

The Council of the synagogue, which is still the most influential in Rome, told in their letter of the great service I had rendered to the Jewry of Rome during the persecution after the revolt in Jerusalem. As one of my services, they mentioned the execution of Paul and Cephas, for they knew that the Jews in Jerusalem hated these plague-spreaders as much as they themselves did. The Council was eager for information of what had happened in Rome, for they had not had any definite news for several months, save for bits received via a few Egyptian pigeons. Titus had tried to stop these too, with trained hawks, and others had had their necks wrung by the starving populace of Jerusalem before they reached the pigeon loft in the temple with their messages.

For safety’s sake I did not reveal that I was a Roman senator, saying that I was an influential knight so that the Jews should not be too tempted. Naturally I assured them that as a new convert, which they could see from my scars, I wished to do everything I could for Jerusalem and the Holy Temple. Thus I had joined Vespasian and his troops as a tribune and let him believe that I could acquire information for him from Jerusalem. The arrow in my heel was sheer bad luck, and the patrol’s attempt to catch me was a cunning feigned attack to bluff the Jews.

My openness made such an impression on the Council that they believed me, as far as is possible in conditions of war. I was allowed to move freely in the city, protected by bearded guards with burning eyes, of whom I was, in fact, more afraid than of the starving inhabitants of the city. I was allowed in the temple, too, as I had been circumcised. So I am one of the last people to have seen the temple of Jerusalem from inside in all its incredible splendor.

With my own eyes I could assure myself that the seven-branched gold candlesticks, the golden vessels and the golden shrewbread were still in their places. They alone were worth an immense fortune, but no one seemed to give a thought to hiding them away. To such an extent did these insane fanatics trust in the sanctity of the temple and their Almighty God. However unbelievable it may sound to a sensible person they had not dared use more than a faction of the immense treasures of the temple to purchase arms and fortifications. The Jews preferred to work themselves to the bone without pay rather than touch the temple treasures, which lay hidden in the middle of the mountain behind armored doors. The whole of the temple mountain is like a hollowed-out honeycomb with its myriad quarters for pilgrims and numerous underground passages. But no one can hide anything so well that no one can find it, provided that more than one man does the hiding and that the hiding place is known to many.

I found this out later when I ferreted out Tigellinus’ secret archives. I thought it important that they should be destroyed for the sake of the authority of the Senate, for in them the political views and personal habits of many members of our oldest families were revealed in a strange light, foolish men who were able to get the people to demand that Tigellinus should be thrown to the wild animals. He would have been incomparably more dangerous dead than alive if his records had fallen into the hands of an unscrupulous person.

Naturally I handed over Tigellinus’ treasure to Vespasian, keeping only a few souvenirs for myself, but I said nothing about the secret papers nor did Vespasian ask about them since he is both wiser and more cunning than his crude exterior indicates. I must admit I handed over the treasure with a heavy heart, for it included the two million sesterces of full-weight gold pieces I had given Tigellinus before leaving Rome as he had been the only man who might have doubted my good intentions and prevented my going. I well remember his distrustful remarks.

“Why,” he asked, “are you giving me such a large sum unasked?”

“To strengthen our friendship,” I replied honestly. “But also because I know you can use this money in the right way if evil times befall. Naturally may all the gods of Rome protect us from such things.”

The money was still there, for he was a miserly man. But he knew how to behave when his time had come. It was he who got the Praetorians to abandon Nero when he realized his own skin was in danger. So at first no one wished him ill, and Galba received him well. It was Otho who had him murdered since he felt all too insecure on the tide of temporary popularity. I have always regretted his quite unnecessary death, for he deserved to see better days after his troubled youth. During Nero’s last years he lived under constant oppression so that he could not sleep and became even harder than before.

But why do I think about him? My most important task in besieged Jerusalem was accomplished in discovering that the temple treasure was still there and intact. Thanks to the completeness of our siege, I knew that not even a rat with a gold piece in its mouth could escape from Jerusalem.

You must understand that because of you and your future, I could not offer Vespasian the loan of the contents of my twenty iron chests in Caesarea to help him to the Imperial throne. I trusted his honesty, but Rome’s finances are in confusion, and civil war imminent. I had to secure my expectations which was the only reason why I risked my life and went to Jerusalem.

Naturally I also collected information on the city’s defenses, on the walls, catapults, food and water supplies, for that too would be to my advantage in my report to Vespasian. The city had more than sufficient water from underground cisterns. Right at the beginning of the siege, Vespasian had hopefully cut off the aqueduct which Procurator Pontius Pilate had had built forty years earlier, and which the Jews had opposed with all their might as they did not want to be dependent on water brought in from outside. This also proved how long the revolt had been prepared, and how long the Jews had awaited a favourable opportunity.

But the city had no stores of provisions. I saw shadow-thin mothers with bony children in their arms, trying in vain to squeeze a last drop of milk from their breasts. I felt sorry for the old people too, for they were given no rations. The fanatics bearing arms and fortifying the walls needed all the food.

At the meat market I saw that a pigeon and a rat were treasures paid for in their weight in silver. There were whole flocks of ewes at the temple for the daily sacrifices to the Jews’ bloodthirsty Jehovah, but the starving crowd did not even try to touch them. They scarcely needed guarding, for they were sacred animals. The priests and members of the Council were, of course, still well-fed.

The sufferings of the Jewish people oppressed me, for in the scales of the inexplicable god, the tears of a Jew presumably weigh as much as those of a Roman, and the tears of children more than those of adults, regardless of language and color of skin. But it was necessary to prolong the siege for political reasons, and the Jews owed their fate to their own stubbornness.

Any Jew who even mentioned capitulation or negotiating with the Romans was immediately executed and I think ended in the meat market, if I may give my own personal opinion. Josephus in his account, and only to arouse compassion, mentions only a few mothers who ate their own children. These things were so common in Jerusalem that even he was forced to mention them, to maintain at least some kind of reputation for historical accuracy.

Later I offered Josephus a reasonable fee for the edition of The Jewish War which my publishing house sold, although we had a legal right to publish it. But Josephus refused the money and in the way all authors do, simply complained about the cuts which I had had made to be able to sell the book better, and my assurances would not convince him that these cuts only improved his intolerably long-winded book. Authors are always conceited.

When we had agreed on what kind of misleading information on the city’s defenses I should bear to Vespasian and the ways in which the Julius Caesar synagogue in Rome could secredy support the Jewish revolt without any risk to themselves, the Jewish Council let me out of the city. Blindfolded, I was taken along an underground passage and pushed out into a quarry among rotting corpses. I scraped the skin off my knees and elbows crawling about in the quarry, and it was not very pleasant to trip and find one’s hand in a swollen corpse, for the Jews had forbidden me to remove the bandage from my eyes until a certain time had gone by. Otherwise they threatened to shoot an arrow straight through my body, without mercy.

Meanwhile they covered the opening to the secret passage so well that we had great difficulty finding it again. But it was finally discovered, since I had to have every hole blocked. The way I returned opened our eyes and taught us to search for outlets from the city in the most unlikely places. With promises of rewards I got the legionaries to dig them out. Nevertheless, in an entire year we found only three. But for some time after my return from Jerusalem I was afraid that the guarantees for your future were lessening. But I need not have worried. The treasure was still there when Titus captured the city, and Vespasian paid his debts.

But thus I spent a whole year in the East, uneasily circling around Vespasian before the time was ripe.