The Roman sotk-2

by Mika Waltari

  I told him Lausus was a son of King Mezentius who fought together with Turnus against Aeneas.

  “That’s what it says in your history of the Etruscans,” I said innocently. “Otherwise I shouldn’t have known it.”

  “Have you really read my little book, despite your youth?” asked Claudius, and then he began to hiccough with emotion. Narcissus patted him gently on the back and ordered the slaves to fetch him more wine. Claudius invited us also to take wine, but warned me in a fatherly way not to drink wine undiluted until I was as old as he was. Narcissus took the opportunity to ask Claudius for his signature to confirm my father’s knighthood. He signed willingly although I think he had forgotten what the matter was about.

  “Is it really your will that my son shall bear the name of Lausus?” asked my father. “If so, it is the greatest honor I can think of that Emperor Claudius himself wishes to stand as godfather to him,”

  Claudius drank his wine, his head trembling.

  “Narcissus,” he said firmly. “Write that down too. You, Mezentius, just send a message to me when the boy is to have his hair cut and I’ll come as your guest if important matters of State do not hinder me at the time.”

  He rose decisively and nearly stumbled before the slaves had time to come forward and support him. With a loud belch, he remarked, “My many learned works of research have made me absentminded, and I remember old things better than new things. So it would be best to note down at once everything I have promised and forbidden. Now I had better take my siesta and must vomit properly. Otherwise I shall have stomachache from that tough goatmeat.”

  When he had left the room, supported by his two slaves, Narcissus turned to my father.

  “Let your boy receive the man-toga at the first suitable moment,” he advised, “and then let me know. It is possible that the Emperor will remember his promise to stand as godfather. At least I shall remind him about the name and his promise. Then he’ll pretend he has remembered, even if he has not.”

  Aunt Laelia had to go to great trouble to find even a few nobles who could be considered related to the Manilianus family. One of the guests was an old former consul who kindly held my hand while I sacrificed the pig. But most of them were women, contemporaries of Aunt Laelia, who were largely tempted to the house in the hope of a free meal. They gabbled like a flock of geese when the barber cut my hair short and shaved the scanty down from my chin. It was an effort to keep calm while they dressed me in the toga and stroked my limbs and patted my cheeks. They could hardly contain their curiosity when, because of the promise I had made, I took the barber up to my room and had him also shave off all the body hairs which showed my manhood. These I put together with the down from my chin into a silver box, the lid of which was decorated with a moon and a lion. The barber chatted and joked while going about his business, but also told me that it was not at all unusual that noble youths receiving the man-toga offered the hair from their private parts to Venus to win her favor.

  Emperor Claudius did not come to our family feast, but he had Narcissus send me the gold ring of knighthood and permission to have it written in the rolls that he personally had given me the name Lausus. Our guests went with my father and me to the temple of Castor and Pollux. My father paid the necessary dues into the archive, and then I had to put the gold ring on my thumb. My ceremonial toga with its narrow red border was ready. The ceremony was not particularly formal. From the archive we went to the meeting room of the Noble Order of Knights, where we paid for permission to choose our horses at the stables on Mars field.

  When we returned home, my father gave me the complete outfit of a Roman knight, a wrought-silver shield, a silver-plated helmet with red plumes, a long sword and a spear. The old ladies urged me to put it all on, and naturally I could not resist the temptation. Barbus helped me fasten the soft leather tunic and soon I was marching around the floor in my short red boots, strutting like a turkey cock with my helmet on my head and a drawn sword in my hand.

  It was already evening. Our house was ablaze with lights and outside people stood watching as well-wishers came and went. The spectators greeted with acclamation the arrival of a finely decorated sedan which was carried up to our entrance by two coal-black Slaves. Aunt Laelia, tripping over her garments, rushed up to meet this late arrival, and out of the sedan stepped a short plump woman whose silk gown revealed almost too clearly her voluptuous figure. Her face was hidden behind a purple veil, but she drew it to one side and allowed Aunt Laelia to kiss her on both cheeks. She had fine-drawn features and a beautifully painted face.

  Aunt Laelia, her voice shrill with emotion, called out, “Minutus, my dear, this is the noble Tullia Valeria, who wants to wish you good fortune. She is a widow, but her late husband was a real Valerius.”

  The woman, still startlingly beautiful although she had reached a mature age, stretched out her arms and swept me, armor and sword and all, to her bosom.

  “Oh, Minutus Lausus,” she cried, “I heard that the Emperor himself has given you your second name and I am not surprised now I see your face. If my fortunes and your father’s whims had allowed it, you could be my own son. Your father and I were good friends in our time, but he must still be ashamed of his behavior toward me as he-didn’t come to see me as soon as he came to Rome.”

  She was still clasping me tenderly in her arms so that I could feel her soft, breast and smell the stupefying scent of her perfumed salves as she looked around. When my father caught sight of her face he stiffened, turned deathly pale and made a movement as if he wished to turn and flee. The lovely Tullia took my hand and approached my father with a charming smile on her face.

  “Don’t be afraid, Marcus,” she said. “On a day like this I forgive you everything. What is past is past, and don’t let us grieve over it. But I have filled many flasks with my tears because of you, you heartless man.”

  She let me go, wound her arms around my father’s neck and kissed him tenderly on his lips. My father shook himself free, trembling from head to foot, and said reproachfully, “Tullia, Tullia, you should know better. I’d rather see a Gorgon head than your face here in my house tonight.”

  But Tullia put her hand over his mouth and turned to Aunt Laelia.

  “Marcus hasn’t changed at all,” she said. “Someone should take care of him. When I see how confused he is and hear him talk in that unreasonable way, I regret that I overcame my pride and came to him when he was ashamed to come to me.”

  This beautiful silk-clad woman entranced me, however old she might be, and I felt a malicious pleasure in seeing my father so completely lose his self-control in her presence. Tullia now turned her attention to the other guests and greeted some of them in a friendly way and others superciliously. The old ladies had much to whisper about with their heads together, but she took no notice of their spiteful glances.

  She would eat only a few sweetmeats and drink a little wine, but she asked me to sit beside her on the couch.

  “It’s not unseemly,” she said, “although you are fully grown now. I could be your mother.”

  With her soft hand she stroked the back of my neck, sighed and then looked in my eyes so that I felt a tingling all over my body. My father noticed and came up to us with his hands clenched.

  “Leave my boy alone,” he said briskly. “You’ve already caused me enough trouble.”

  Tullia shook her head sadly and sighed.

  “If anyone has helped you, Marcus,” she said, “then it was I in your manhood days. Once I even traveled all the way to Alexandria after you, but don’t think I would do it again. It is only for your son’s sake that I have come to warn you. Valeria Messalina is offended that Claudius has given your son his name and sent him the ring of knighthood without consulting her. For that reason there are certain other persons who are curious about you and your son and want to favor all those with whom this shameless woman seeks a quarrel. It is a difficult choice that awaits you, Marcus.”

  “I don’t want to be involved, e
ven to know about such things,” cried my father in despair. “I can’t believe that after all these years you immediately want to involve me in one of your intrigues in which I can lose my good reputation just as I have managed to retrieve it. Shame on yon, Tullia.”

  Hut Tullia teasingly laughed aloud and brushed her hand across my father’s.

  “Now I see why I was so insane about you once, Marcus,” she said. “No other man has ever been able to pronounce my name so delightfully.”

  And to tell the truth, when my father spoke her name there was a touch of melancholy in his voice. Of course I could not possibly see what such a fine noble woman could see in my father. Aunt Laelia came up to us, tittering cheerfully, and gave my father a playful slap on the cheek.

  “You’re not sitting here squabbling like a pair of young lovers, are you?” she said warningly. “It’s high time you calmed down, my dear Tullia. You’ve already had four husbands and the last “one has hardly had time to grow cold in his grave.”

  “Exactly, dear Laelia,” admitted Tullia. “It is time I calmed down. That is why I am so unutterably glad to have found Marcus again. His presence calms me wonderfully.”

  She turned to me.

  “But you, young Achilles,” she went on, “your new sword makes my mind uneasy. If only I were ten years younger, I should ask you to come with me to look at the moon. But old as I am, I cannot. Go then and amuse yourself. Your father and I have much to settle together.”

  When she mentioned the moon, I was disturbed and went up to the upper floor to remove my armor. I felt my shorn hair and my smooth cheeks and was suddenly disappointed and sad, for I had been waiting for this day for so long and had dreamed about it and now nothing was as I had expected. But I had to fulfill my promise to the oracle in Daphne.

  I went out the back way and in the kitchen acknowledged the good wishes of the sweating slaves. I told them to eat and drink as much as they could manage, for there would be no more guests arriving now. At the gate I dutifully straightened up the almost extinguished torches and thought sadly that this was perhaps the greatest and most solemn day of my life. Life is just like a torch, which at first burns clearly and then is extinguished in fumes and smoke.

  A girl wrapped in a brown mantle stepped out from the dark shadows of the wall.

  “Minutus, Minutus,” she whispered. “I want to wish you happiness and have brought you these cakes which I baked for you myself. I was going to leave them with the slaves, but fate was kind to me and let me meet you myself.”

  With horror, I recognized Claudia, against whom Aunt Laelia had warned me. But at the same time I was flattered that this strange girl had found out the day of my majority in order to wish me happiness. Quite unexpectedly a great rush of joy went through me when I saw her thick black eyebrows, her wide mouth and sunburned skin. She was different from all the aging soured guests who had gathered in our house. Claudia was living and real and genuine. She was my friend.

  Claudia shyly brushed her hand across my cheek and was not at all as arrogant and self-confident as when we had first met.

  “Minutus,” she whispered. “You’ve probably heard evil things about me, but I am not as bad as people make out. In fact I want to think only good thoughts now I have met you. In that way you’ve brought me happiness.”

  We began to walk side by side toward the Moon temple. Claudia adjusted my toga at the neck and together we ate one of her cakes by taking turns at biting into it, just as we had done with her cheese at the library. The cake was spiced with honey and caraway. Claudia said she had collected the honey and caraway herself and ground the wheat-flour with her own hands in an old hand mill.

  As we walked she did not take my arm, but shyly avoided touching me. Filled with my manhood, I took her arm and steered her around the potholes in the street. She sighed happily. In strictest confidence, I told her about my promise and said that I was now on my way to the Moon temple with my votive gift in a silver box.

  “Ugh, that temple has a bad reputation!” cried Claudia. “Immoral mysteries go on there behind barred doors at night. It was a good thing I was standing outside your house. If you’d gone there alone, you might have lost more than your gift.

  “I don’t even bother to watch the State sacrifices any longer,” she went on. “The gods are just stone and wood. That lying old man in Palatine is reviving old ceremonies just to bind people more firmly with the old chains. I have my own sacred tree and a clear sacrificial well. If I’m sad I go to the oracle at the Vatican and look at the birds flying.”

  “You talk like my father,” I said. “He did not even want to let a seer read in a liver for me. But powers and witchcraft exist. Even sensible people admit that. So I prefer to fulfill my promise rather than not.”

  We had reached the temple, which stood sunk in the ground. Fortunately the door stood wide open and inside a few small lamps were burning, but there was no one in sight as I hung my silver box up among the other temple gifts. I should really have rung the bell to summon the priestess, but to be honest I was afraid of her and did not at that particular moment wish to see her pale white face. I hurriedly dipped the tips of my fingers into the holy oil and rubbed them on the stone egg. Claudia smiled in amusement and placed a cake on the priestess’ empty stool as a gift. Then we ran out of the temple like two naughty children.

  Outside in front of the temple, we kissed each other. Claudia held my head between her hands.

  “Has your father already betrothed you,” she asked jealously, “or have you only been shown some Roman girls to choose from? That’s usually part of the coming of age ceremonies.”

  I had not given even a thought to why Aunt Laelia’s old friends had brought a couple of small girls with them. They had stared at me with their fingers in their mouths. I thought they had been allowed to come to taste the sweetmeats and cakes.

  “No, no,” I replied in fright. “My father has by no means considered marrying me to anyone.”

  “Oh, if only I could control myself and tell you clearly my thoughts,” said Claudia sadly. “Don’t bind yourself to anyone too s’oon, will you? That brings a great deal of unhappiness. There are enough marriage breakers in Rome already. You probably still think the difference in our ages very great since I am five years older than you are. But as the years go by and you do your military service, the difference will seem less. You have eaten a cake I have baked and kissed my lips of your own free will. That does not tie you in any way, but I take it as a sign that I am not entirely repugnant to you. So I can do no more than ask you to remember me sometimes and not tie yourself to anyone else without first telling me.”

  I had not the slightest intention of marrying, so I thought her request reasonable. I kissed her again and was warmed by holding her in my arms.

  “That I can promise you,” I said, “as long as you don’t always want to be with me wherever I am. In fact I’ve never liked giggling girls of my own age and I like you because you are more mature and because you read books. I can’t remember the poets describing marriage ceremonies in their love poems. On the contrary, they describe love as free and untrammeled. It has nothing to do with hearth and home but is about the scent of roses and moonlight.”

  Claudia was upset and drew back a little.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she said reproachfully. “Why shouldn’t I think about the scarlet veil, the saffron yellow mantle and the girdle with two knots. That is the innermost thought in every woman’s mind when she strokes a man’s cheeks and kisses his lips.”

  Her protestations made me pull her roughly back into my arms, to kiss her reluctant lips and warm throat. But Claudia struggled free, gave me a sharp slap over the ear and burst into tears, which she then wiped away with the back of her hand.

  “I thought you had other thoughts about me,” she sobbed. “This is all the thanks I get for controlling myself and believing only good of you. But you only want to fling me down on my back over there by the wall and pres
s my knees apart to satisfy your lust. I’m not that sort of girl.”

  Her tears made me weaken and cool down.

  “You’re strong enough to defend yourself,” I said sullenly, “and I don’t even know if I could do what you say. I’ve never played about with slave-women and neither did my nurse seduce me. There’s no need for you to cry, for you’re certainly much more experienced in these matters than I am.”

  Claudia was astonished at my words and forgot to cry as she stared at me in wonder.

  “Are you telling me the truth?” she said. “I’ve always thought that boys behave like monkeys. The more noble they are, the more monkeylike their habits. But if you’re telling me the truth, then I have even more reason to control my trembling body. You would despise me if I gratified our desires. Our pleasure would be short-lived and soon forgotten.”

  My cheek was stinging and the disappointment in my body made me snap at her, “You obviously know best.”

  Without looking at her, I began to walk homeward. She hesitated for a moment and then slowly followed me and we said nothing to each other for a while. But in the end I had to burst out laughing. It was pleasant that she came with me so humbly.

  She made the most of the opportunity and put her hand on my shoulder.

  “Promise me one more thing, Minutus dear,” she begged. “Don’t go straight to a brothel or to make an offering to Venus, as most boys do as soon as they receive their togas. If you feel an irresistible desire for something like that, for I know men are ungovernable, then promise to tell me first, even if it hurts me.”

  I promised her all this as she asked me so persuasively. All I was thinking of was what kind of horse I should get. At that time not even Cleopatra could have competed with a good horse in my mind. I laughed when I gave my word and told her she was a nice but rather peculiar girl. We parted smiling and good friends. I was in a good mood afterward. When I got home, my father was just getting into Tullia’s sedan to accompany her home, for she lived at Viminalis on the other side of the city, on the boundary between Altasemita and Esquilina. My father’s eyes were staring and glassy and he did not ask me where I had been, but just told me to go to bed in good time. I suspected that he had drunk a good deal of wine but it was not noticeable from his walk.