by Mika Waltari
I found his thin limbs and round yellow stomach repugnant, and even more so when, in the middle of his sarcasms, he began to stroke my arms and talk about how in Antioch I must have made acquaintance with Greek love. He wanted me to move into his room with him on the top story of a wretched house in Subura while our house was being repaired. One had to climb a ladder to get there and he would then be able to instruct me undisturbed and familiarize me with a life of wisdom.
Barbus noticed his intentions and gave him a serious warning. When he did not heed it, Barbus finally gave him a beating. This frightened him so much, he no longer even dared go to my father for his salary. On our part, we dared not tell my father the real reason why he had vanished from our sight. My father presumed that I, by being so stubborn, had displeased an eminent scholar. We quarreled and I said, “Let me have a horse instead, so that I can get to know some other boys in Rome and have the company of others like myself and learn their customs.”
“A horse was your downfall in Antioch,” remarked my father. “Emperor Claudius has proclaimed a sensible new edict in which an old or otherwise decrepit senator or knight in the procession can lead his horse by the bridle without mounting. One has to carry out, in name only, the military service the office demands.”
“But at least give me enough money,” I said quickly, “so that I can make friends among actors, musicians and circus people. If I mix with them, I can get to know the effeminate Roman boys who avoid military service.”
But my father did not like this either.,
“Aunt Laelia has already warned me and says that a youngster like you shouldn’t be without company of your own age for too long,” he admitted. “While seeing to my affairs, I have met a certain shipowner and grain dealer. Now, after the. famine, Emperor Claudius is havifig a new harbor built and will pay compensation for grain ships which founder. On the advice of Marcius the fisherman, I have bought shares in these ships, for one no longer runs such a risk, and some people have already made a fortune by just re-equipping old ships. But the habits of these newcomers are such that I have no desire for you to mix with them.”
I had a feeling that my father did not himself know what he wanted.
“Have you come to Rome to get rich?” I asked him.
My father was annoyed.
“You know perfectly well,” he said violently, “that I desire nothing more than to live a simple life in peace and quiet. But my freedmen have taught me that it is a crime against the State and the common good to save gold coins in bags in a chest. In addition I want to buy more land in Caere, where my real family lives. You must never forget that we are of the Manilianus family only by adoption.”
He looked at me with troubled eyes.
“You have a fold in your eyelid,” he said, “just as I have. It is a sign of our true origins. But when I searched in the State archives, I saw with my own eyes the rolls of knighthood from Emperor Gaius’ day, and there is no mark against my name, only a snakelike wavy line through it. Gaius’ hands shook badly because of his illness. There was no court judgment or action against me. Whether this was because of my absence or not, I don’t know. The Procurator Pontius Pilate himself fell from grace ten years ago, lost his office and was removed to Galilee. But Emperor Claudius has that secret record and it could obviously contain something to my disadvantage. I have met his freedman Felix, who is interested in the affairs of Judaea. He has promised to consult Narcissus, the Emperor’s private secretary, at a suitable moment. I should prefer to meet this influential man myself, but he is said to be so important that it costs ten thousand sesterces just to meet him. For the sake of my honor and certainly not from meanness, I should prefer not to bribe him directly.”
My father went on to tell me that he had listened carefully and memorized everything said about Emperor Claudius, the bad as well as the good. The return of our name to the rolls depended in the long run on the Emperor personally. With increasing age, Emperor Claudius had become so capricious that at a whim or an omen, he would reverse the firmest decisions. He might also fall asleep in the middle of a session of the Senate, or at a trial, and forget what was being dealt with. While waiting, my father had taken the opportunity of reading all the works Emperor Claudius had published, even his manual on the game of dice.
“Emperor Claudius is one of the few Romans who can still speak the Etruscans’ language and read their script,” explained my father. “If you want to please me, go to the public library in Palatine and ask to read the book he has written on the history of the Etruscans. It is several scrolls long and not a very dull book. It also explains the words in many of the priests’ sacrificial rituals which they have hitherto had to learn by heart. Then we’ll go to Caere and look at our property, which I have still not yet seen myself. You will be able to ride there.”
But my father’s advice depressed me even more and I felt more like biting my lips and weeping than anything else. When my father had gone, Barbus gave me a sly look.
“It’s odd how many middle-aged men forget what it’s like to be young,” he said. “I remember very well indeed how when I was your age I wept without cause and had bad dreams. I know perfectly well how you could retrieve your peace of mind and sound sleep, but because of your father I daren’t arrange any such thing for you.”
Aunt Laelia also began to look at me with troubled eyes, and then she asked me into her room, looking around carefully before speaking.
“If you swear not to tell your father,” she said, “I’ll tell you a secret.”
From politeness I promised I would not, although I was laughing inwardly, for I thought that Aunt Laelia would be unlikely to have any thrilling secrets. But in this I was wrong.
“In the room you sleep in,” she said, “a Jewish magician called Simon used to live as my guest. He himself says he is a Samaritan, but they’re Jews too, aren’t they? His incense and magical symbols have probably been disturbing your sleep. He came to Rome some years ago and soon won a reputation as a physician, fortuneteller and miracle worker. Senator Marcellus let him live in his house and erected a statue for him, for he believed that Simon had divine powers. His powers were. tested. He plunged a young slave into the sleep of the dead ‘and then wakened him again from the dead, although the boy had already turned cold and did not show the slightest sign of life. I saw this with my own eyes.”
“I’m sure you did,” I said. “But I’ve had enough of Jews in Antioch.”
“Quite,” said Aunt Laelia eagerly. “Let me go on. The other Jews, the ones who live on the other side of the river, and the ones who live here on Aventine, became bitterly envious of Simon the magician. He could make himself invisible and he could fly. So the Jews summoned another magician who was also called Simon. Both of them had to demonstrate their powers and Simon, that is my Simon, asked the spectators to look carefully at a little cloud and then he suddenly disappeared. When he showed himself again, he was flying out of the cloud above the forum, but then the other Jew called on his idol, Christ, so that Simon fell to the ground in midflight and broke his leg. He was angry about this and was carried out of the city to hide in the country while his leg healed, until the other Simon had left the city. Then Simon the magician returned with his daughter and I let him live here as he had no better patron. He stayed with me as long as I had money but then moved to a house by the Moon temple and he receives, clients there. He doesn’t fly anymore, and neither does he raise the dead, but his daughter earns her living as a moon priestess. Many noble people let her tell their fortunes, and Simon gets back vanished articles.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked suspiciously.
Aunt Laelia began to wring her hands.
“It’s been so sad since Simon the magician left,” she said, “but he won’t receive me any longer because I’ve no money and I’ve not dared go to his home because of your father. But I’m sure he would cure your bad dreams and calm your fears. Anyhow, with his daughter’s help he could tell your
fortune and advise you on what you should eat and what doesn’t agree with you and which days are your lucky days and which are unlucky. He forbade me to eat peas, for instance, and ever since then I’ve felt quite ill as soon as I see peas, even if they’re only dried ones.”
My father had given me some gold pieces to console me and spur me on to read the history of the Etruscans. I thought Aunt Laelia was a silly old lady, spending her time on superstition and magic because she did not have much fun in her life. But I didn’t grudge her her pastime, and the Samaritan magician and his daughter seemed much more exciting than the dusty library where old men sit endlessly rustling among the dry scrolls. The time had also come for me to make acquaintance with the Moon temple, because of the promise I had made to the oracle in Daphne.
When I promised to go with Laelia to the magician, she was extremely pleased. She dressed herself in silks, painted and prinked her wrinkled face, put on the red wig my father had given her and also put the necklace of jewels around her thin neck. Barbus asked her, in the name of the gods, at least to cover her head, for otherwise people might well take her for the hostess of a brothel. Aunt Laelia was not angry, but just wagged her forefinger at Barbus and forbade him to come with us. But Barbus had promised solemnly never to let me out of his sight in Rome. Finally we agreed that he should come with us to the Moon temple but would wait outside.
The Moon temple on Aventine is so ancient that there is no myth about it as there is about the more recent Diana temple. King Servius Tullius in his day had it built in a circular shape from magnificent timber. Later a stone temple was built around the wooden building. The innermost part of the temple is so holy that it has no stone floor, but is just flattened earth. Apart from votive gifts, there are no other sacred objects except a huge egg of stone, the surface of which is worn black and smooth with oil and salve. When one enters the half-light of the temple, one can feel the shiver of holiness one experiences only in very old temples. This shiver I had felt before in the temple of Saturn, which is the most ancient and most terrifying and most holy of all the temples in Rome. It is the temple of Time, and the high priest, who is usually the Emperor himself, on a certain day every year still beats on a copper nail in the oaken pillar which stands in the middle of it.
In the Moon temple there is no sacred pillar, but just the egg of stone. Beside it, on a tripod, a deathly pale woman was sitting so still that at first I took her for a statue in the darkness. But Aunt Laelia spoke to her in a voice that mewed with humility, calling her Helena and buying holy oil from her to rub into the egg. As she poured out the oil in drops, she mumbled a magic formula which only women are allowed to learn. For men it is useless to make offerings to this egg. As she was making offerings, I looked at the votive gifts and noticed to my delight that there were several small round’ silver boxes amongst them. I was ashamed at the thought of what I had promised to offer to the Moon goddess, for I considered it best to take it to the temple in a closed box when the time was right.
Just then the pale woman turned to me, looked at me with her frightening black eyes, smiled and said, “Don’t be ashamed of your thoughts, oh handsome youth. The Moon Goddess is a more powerful goddess than you think. If you can win her favor, then you will possess a power incomparably greater than the raw strength of Mars or the barren wisdom of Minerva.”
She spoke Latin with an accent, so that it sounded as if she had spoken some ancient forgotten language. Her face became enlarged in my eyes, as if shining with a hidden moonlight, and when she smiled I saw that she was beautiful despite her pallor. Aunt Laelia spoke to her even more humbly, so that I suddenly thought she looked like a thin cat, insinuatingly stroking and weaving herself around the stone
“No, no, not a cat,” said the priestess, still smiling. “A lioness. Don’t you see? What have you got to do with lions, boy?”
Her words frightened me and for a very brief moment I really seemed to see a thin troubled lioness where Aunt Laelia had been standing. It looked at me as reproachfully as the old lion outside Antioch had done when I had jabbed its paw with my spear. But the vision vanished as I brushed my hand across my forehead.
“Is your father at home?” asked Aunt Laelia. “And do you think he would receive us?”
“My father Simon has fasted and journeyed in many countries to appear unexpectedly to people who respect his divine power,” said the priestess Helena. “But I know that at the moment he is awake and is expecting you both.”
She took us through the rear door of the temple and a few steps beyond it to a tall block which had a shop for holy souvenirs on the ground floor full of both cheap and expensive moons and stars of copper and quite small polished stone eggs. The priestess Helena at once looked quite ordinary, her thin face yellow and her white cloak soiled and smelling foully of stale incense. She was no longer young.
She took us through the shop into a dirty back room where a black-bearded, thick-nosed man was sitting on a mat on the floor. He raised his eyes toward us as if he were still in another world, but then rose stiffly to greet Aunt Laelia.
“I was speaking with an Ethiopian magician,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice. “But I felt it in me that you were on your way here. Why do you disturb me, Laelia Manilia? From your silks and jewels I see that you have already received all the good things I foretold. What more do you want?”
Aunt Laelia explained meekly that I slept in the room in which Simon the magician had lived for so long. I had bad dreams at night, ground my teeth and cried out in my sleep. Aunt Laelia wanted to know the reasons for this and if possible to receive a remedy for it.
“I was also in debt to you, dearest Simon, when you left my house in your bitterness,” said Aunt Laelia, and she asked me to give the magician three gold pieces.
Simon the magician did not take the money himself, but just nodded to his daughter-if the priestess Helena really was his daughter-and she took it indifferently. Three Roman aureii is after all three hundred sesterces or seventy-five silver coins, so I was annoyed at her superciliousness.
The magician sat down on his mat again and asked me to sit opposite him. The priestess Helena threw a few pinches of incense into the holder.
“I heard that you broke your leg when you were flying,” I said politely at last, as the magician said nothing and just stared at me.
“I had a fall on the other side of the sea in Samaria,” he began in a monotonous voice. But Aunt Laelia became impatient and started to fidget.
“Oh, Simon, won’t you command us as before?” she pleaded.
The magician held his forefinger up in the air. Aunt Laelia stiffened and began to stare at it. Without even glancing at her, — . Simon the magician said, “You can no longer turn your head, Laelia Manilia. And don’t disturb us, but go bathe in the spring. When you step into the water, you will be satisfied and become younger.”
Aunt Laelia did not go anywhere but just remained immobile where she was, staring stupidly ahead as she made gestures as if she were undressing. Simon the magician went on looking at me and returned to his story.
“I had a tower of stone,” he said. “The moon and all five of the planets served me and my power was divine. The Moon Goddess took on human form in Helena and became my daughter. With her help I could see into both the past and the future. But then came magicians from Galilee whose powers were greater than mine. They needed only to place their hands on a man’s head and he would begin to speak and the spirit came to him. I was still young then and wanted to study all kinds of powers. So I bade them lay their hands on me too and promised them a large sum of money if they would transfer their powers to me so that I could perform the same miracle as they did. But they were miserly with their powers and cursed me and forbade me to use the name of their god in my activities. Look in my eyes, boy. What is your name?”
“Minutus,” I said reluctantly, for his monotonous voice, more than his story, had made my head whirl. “Oughtn’t you to know that without asking me, if you
’re such a great magician?” I added sarcastically.
“Minutus, Minutus,” he repeated. “The power in me tells me that you will receive another name before the moon waxes for the third time. But I did not believe the Galilean magicians. On the contrary, I cured the sick in the name of their God until they began to persecute me and had me prosecuted in Jerusalem because of a little gold Eros. A rich woman gave it to me of her own free will. Look in my eyes, Minutus. But they bewitched her with their powers so that she herself forgot she had given it to me. Instead she said that I had made myself invisible and stolen it from her. You know I can make myself invisible, don’t you? I count to three, Minutus. One, two, three. Now you cannot see me any longer.”
He really did fade away from view so that I seemed to be staring at a shimmering ball which was perhaps a moon. But I shook my head violently, shut my eyes and opened them again, and then he was sitting opposite me just as before.
“I can see you as before, Simon the magician,” I said distrustfully. “I don’t want to look into your eyes.”
He laughed in a friendly way, made a dismissive gesture with his hands and said, “You are a stubborn boy and I don’t want to force you, for that would bring nothing good. But look at Manilia Laelius.”
I looked at Aunt Laelia. She had raised her hands and was leaning back with a rapturous expression on her face. The wrinkles around her mouth and eyes had been smoothed out and her figure had become buoyant and youthful.
“Where are you at the moment, Manilia Laelius?” asked Simon the magician in a commanding voice.