by Mika Waltari
Twelve days later Nero was married to Poppaea Sabina, but the wedding celebrations were not particularly gay. Nevertheless, the wedding presents filled an entire room in Palatine.
As usual, Nero had a careful list of the gifts made and saw to it that every donor received an official letter of thanks. Rumor had it that he had also had a special list drawn up of those senators and knights who had not sent a gift or who on account of illness had not attended the wedding. So, simultaneously with gifts from the provinces, there poured in a number of late presents together with many explanations and apologies. The Jewish Council in Rome sent Poppaea goblets made of gold and decorated with grapes, worth half a million sesterces.
Statues of Poppaea Sabina were erected all over Rome in place of those of Octavia. Tigellinus had the Praetorians guard them day and night so that some people who, in all innocence, wishing to garland them with wreaths received a jab in the face from a shield or a blow from the flat of a sword for their pains.
One night someone pulled a sack over the head of the giant statue of Nero on the Capitoline. The news soon spread all over Rome and everyone realized what lay behind it. According to the laws of our forefathers, a patricide or a matricide shall be drowned in a sack together with a snake, a cat and a cockerel. As far as I know, this was the first time anyone had publicly implied that Nero had killed his mother.
My father-in-law, Flavius Sabinus, was very worried by the oppressive atmosphere which lay over Rome. When he heard that a live adder had been found on one of the marble floors at Palatine, he ordered the police to keep their eyes skinned for every possible demonstration. This was how the wife of a rich senator came to be arrested for carrying her cat with her on her evening walk. A slave on his way to the temple of Aesculapius with a cockerel he was to sacrifice for his master’s health was flogged. This provoked general merriment, although my father-in-law was only acting in good faith, with no ill intentions. Nero, however, was so angry with him that he lost his office for a while.
For all of us who could think reasonably, it was as clear as daylight that the rejection of Octavia was being used as an excuse for a general blackening of Nero’s name in every way. Poppaea Sabina was more beautiful and much cleverer than the fastidious Octavia, although this was her third marriage. But the older generation did everything they could to stir up trouble among the people.
In fact I felt my throat many times during those days and wondered what it would be like to lose one’s head. A military coup was imminent, for the Praetorians did not like Tigellinus, who was of low descent and a former horse dealer, and who maintained discipline ruthlessly. He soon quarreled with his colleague in office, Fenius Rufus, so that they could no longer remain in the same room together. One, usually Rufus, always left.
We who were Nero’s friends and honestly wished him well, gathered at Palatine in a solemn council. Tigellinus was the eldest and the one with the strongest will, so however much we disliked him, we still turned to him and he spoke seriously to Nero.
“Here in the city,” he said, “I can guarantee order and your safety. But in Massilia there is the exiled Sulla who has Antonia’s support. He is poor and prematurely gray from his humiliations. I know from reliable sources that he has connections in noble circles in Gaul, people who admire Antonia because of her own great name and because she is Claudius’ daughter. The legions in Germany are also so near that Sulla’s very presence in Massilia is a danger to the State and the common good.”
Nero admitted this and said in despair, “I cannot imagine why no one loves Poppaea Sabina as I do. At the moment she is in a delicate condition and must not be exposed to the slightest excitement.”
“Plautius is an even greater danger to you,” Tigellinus went on. “It was a great mistake to exile him to Asia, where it was unruly enough without him. His grandfather was a Drusus. Who can guarantee that Corbulo and his legions will remain loyal to you? His father-in-law, Senator Lucius Antistius, has sent one of his freedmen there to urge Plautius to make the most of the opportunity. This I have from trustworthy sources. In addition he is very wealthy, and with an ambitious man, that is just as dangerous as poverty.”
“I know the situation in Asia quite well,” I put in. “I’ve heard that Plautius only keeps company with philosophers. The Etruscan Muso-nius, who is a good friend of the world-famous Apollonius from Tyana, voluntarily went into exile with him.”
Tigellinus struck his hands together triumphantly.
“You see, my lord!” he cried. “Philosophers are the worst advisers of all when they whisper their outrageous views on freedom and tyranny into young men’s ears.”
“Who can even suggest that I am a tyrant?” said Nero indignandy. “I have given the people more freedom than any other ruler before me. And I meekly submit all my proposals to the Senate for their approval.”
We hurriedly assured him that as far as the welfare of the nation was concerned, he was the mildest and most liberal ruler one could imagine. But now it was a matter of what was best for the State and there was nothing more terrible than civil war.
At that moment, Poppaea Sabina came rushing in, scantily dressed, her hair hanging loose and tears pouring down her cheeks. She flung herself down in front of Nero, rubbed her breasts against his knees and pleaded with him.
“I don’t mind for myself,” she said, “or my position, or even for our unborn son, but this is a matter of your life, dearest Nero. Trust Tigellinus. He knows what he is saying.”
Poppaea’s physician had agitatedly followed her in.
“There is a risk of a miscarriage if she does not have peace of mind,” he said, gently trying to disengage her from Nero.
“How can I ever have peace of mind as long as that loathsome woman plots away on Pandataria?” wailed Poppaea. “She has insulted your marriage bed, she practices the worst kind of witchcraft and has several times tried to poison me. I’ve been sick several times today, just because I’m so frightened.”
“He who has once chosen his way can no longer look back,” said Tigellinus with conviction. “I appeal to your magnanimity as our friend, if you won’t think of your own life, Nero. You are putting all our lives in danger with your indecisiveness. The first to be swept away in the coup will be those who wish you well and are not just pressing their own advantage, as Seneca is, for instance. Faced with the inevitable, the gods themselves must bow down.”
Nero’s eyes filled with tears of sorrow.
“Be my witnesses,” he declared, “you who can confirm that this is the most burdensome moment of my life, when my personal feelings must give way for the State and the common good. I comply with what is politically unavoidable.”
Tigellinus’ hard face lit up and he raised his arm in greeting.
“Now you are a true ruler, Nero,” he said. “Trustworthy Praetorians are already on their way to Massilia. I have sent a whole maniple to Asia with the possibility of armed resistance in mind. I could not endure the thought of those who envy you using this opportunity to overthrow you and injure the fatherland.”
Instead of being angry at his high-handedness, Nero let out a sigh of relief and praised him as a true friend. Then he absentmindedly asked how long it took a courier to get to Pandataria.
Only a few days later, Poppaea Sabina asked me secretively, “Would you like to see the best wedding present I’ve had from Nero?”
She led me to her room, lifted a brown-flecked cloth from a willow basket and showed me Octavia’s bloodless head. Screwing up her delightful nose, she said, “Ugh, it’s beginning to smell and collect flies. My physician has ordered me to throw it away, but looking at this wedding present now and again convinces me more than anything else that I really am the Imperial consort.
“Just think,” she went on. “When the Praetorians came to put her in a hot bath so that her veins could be opened painlessly, like a little girl who has broken her doll, she cried, ‘I haven’t done anything.’ She was, after all, twenty years old. But she must ha
ve been backward in some way. Who knows with whom Messalina conceived her? Perhaps simply the deranged Claudius.”
Nero demantled that the Senate should decide on thank-offerings in the temples of the Capitoline for the averting of the danger to the State. Twelve days later, Faustus Sulla’s prematurely gray head arrived from Massilia and the Senate voluntarily decided to continue with the thank-offerings.
In the city a stubborn rumor spread that Plautius had started a rebellion in Asia. Civil war and a defeat in the East were considered so likely that the price of gold and silver began to rise and a number of people hurriedly sold both land and city apartments cheaply. I took the opportunity to make some very profitable deals.
When Plautius’ head eventually arrived from Asia after some delay caused by storms, public relief was so great that not only the Senate but also individual citizens made thank-offerings. Nero made the most of the situation and reinstated Rufus in his former office as Inspector for the grain trade and at the same time promoted him to Procurator for the State Grain Stores. Tigellinus weeded out the Praetorians and pensioned several off early to the veteran colony in Puteoli. For my part, I was at least five million sesterces richer after these events.
Seneca took part in the festive processions and thank-offerings, but many people noticed that his legs were unsteady and his hands trembled violently. He was already over sixty-five and had become considerably fatter, his face swollen and his cheekbones blue. Nero kept out of his way as much as possible and avoided being left alone with him so as not to have to listen to his reproaches.
But one day Seneca applied for an official audience. For safety’s sake, Nero gathered his friends around him, hoping that in spite of everything, Seneca would not accuse him in public. But Seneca made an elegant speech in his honor, praising him for his foresight and the determination with which he had preserved the fatherland from the dangers which had threatened it, dangers which Seneca’s own aging eyes had not been able to discern. After this meeting, Seneca ceased to receive anyone who wished to meet him, dismissed his guard of honor and moved out into the country to his beautiful estate on the road to Praeneste. He put forward his poor health as a reason and explained that he was occupied with a philosophical treatise into the pleasures of denial. It was said that he held to a strict diet and avoided people, so that he did not have much pleasure from his great wealth.
I was given the surprising honor of being appointed Praetor Extraordinary in the middle of a term of office. For this appointment I presumably had Poppaea’s friendship to thank, as well as Tigellinus’ opinion that I was a weak-willed man. Troubled by the atmosphere the political murders had created and the tension over Poppaea’s pregnancy, Nero felt the need to show himself as a good ruler by clearing up all the foreign lawsuits which had accumulated to an inexcusable extent at the Praetorium.
I think that Nero’s self-confidence was strengthened by an unexpected omen. During a sudden thunderstorm, a flash of lightning knocked a gold goblet out of his hand. I do not think the lightning in fact struck the actual goblet, but probably struck so near him that the goblet fell out of his hand. The event was hushed up, but it was soon generally known in the city and was interpreted, of course, as an ill omen.
But according to the Etruscans’ ancient lore of lightning, a person who is struck by lightning without being killed is holy and dedicated to the gods. Nero, who willingly believed in omens, now seriously began to regard himself as a holy man and tried for a while to behave accordingly, as long as the political murders still burdened his oversensitive conscience.
When I took up my appointment at the Praetorium, Tigellinus put at my disposal a room choked with a dusty collection of documents. All of them were lawsuits in which Roman citizens resident abroad were appealing to the Emperor. Tigellinus put some of them to one side.
“I have received considerable gifts to hurry these on,” he said. “Prepare them first. I have chosen you to help because you have shown a certain flexibility in difficult matters of some urgency and also because you yourself are so wealthy that your integrity need not be doubted. The other opinions expressed about you in the Senate at your appointment were not flattering. See to it then that rumor of our integrity is spread all through the provinces. If you are offered gifts, refuse them, although you may indicate that I as Prefect might possibly hurry the matter on. But remember that the final verdict of the Praetorium cannot under any circumstances be bought. Only Nero himself pronounces the verdict, guided by our advice.”
He turned to leave, but then added, “We have had a Jewish magician here under arrest for two years. He must be released, for during Pop-paea’s pregnancy she must not be exposed to any witchcraft. Poppaea favors the Jews all too much. I do not want to meet him myself. This Jew has already bewitched several of his guards among the Praetorians, to the extent that they are now useless as guards.”
My task was not quite so difficult as I had first thought. Most of the cases stemmed from Burrus’ day and were already marked with reports by a more knowledgeable lawyer than I. After Agrippina’s death, Nero had avoided Burrus and pushed the lawsuits to one side, to expose him to general dissatisfaction over the slowness of litigation.
Out of curiosity, I immediately went through the papers concerning the Jewish magician. To my surprise, I saw that they were about my old acquaintance Saul of Tarsus. He was accused of insulting the temple in Jerusalem, and to judge by the papers, he had been arrested there when Felix had been relieved of his office because he was Pallas’ brother. The new Procurator Festus had sent Paul to prison in Rome and I saw that he really had been under arrest for two years.
Nevertheless, he had permission to live freely in the city, while he himself paid for his guard, and among the documents was a statement from Seneca recommending his release. I did not know that Paul was wealthy enough to be able to afford an appeal to the Emperor.
Within two days I had sorted out a number of cases in which Nero could show his mildness and generosity, but with my knowledge of Saul-Paul, I considered it wisest to visit him in his quarters beforehand so that at the Imperial court he did not make the mistake of wasting Nero’s time with unnecessary talk. His release was already decided on.
Paul was living quite comfortably in two rooms he had rented in the house of a Jewish fancy goods merchant. He had aged considerably. His face was lined and he was even balder than before. According to the regulations he was, of course, in shackles, but his double guard of Praetorians allowed him to look after himself, receive guests and send letters wherever he wished.
Two pupils lived with him and he also had his own physician, a Jew called Lucas from Alexandria. As far as I could make out, Paul was quite well off, since he could afford such comfortable quarters and benevolent guards instead of the stinking communal cells of the public prison. The worst prison, the Mamertine carcer, would not have been in question for him, for he was not a State criminal.
In the documents he was naturally called Saul, which was his legal name, but to put him in a friendly mood I greeted him as Paul. He recognized me at once and returned my greeting so intimately that I thought it best to send my clerk and both lictors out of the room to avoid being suspected of recusance in the court.
“Your case is being attended to,” I told him. “It will be settled in a few days’ time. The Emperor is in a good mood before die birth of his heir. But you must control yourself when you appear before him.”
Paul smiled the smile of a man who has endured a great deal.
“I am commantled to preach the good message,” he said, “whether the moment is suitable or not.”
I asked him out of curiosity why the Praetorians considered him a magician. He told me a long story about how he and his companions had been shipwrecked on their way to Rome. The physician Lucas filled in the story when Paul grew tired. Paul assured me that the charge of insulting the temple in Jerusalem was a false one and without foundation, or at least due to a misunderstanding. Procurator Felix would
have unhesitatingly released him if he had agreed to pay enough.
He had nothing but good to say of the Romans, for by taking him from Jerusalem to Caesarea they had saved his life. Forty fanatical Jews had sworn neither to eat nor drink until they had put him to death. But it was unlikely that they had starved to death, Paul said with a smile and without rancor. In fact he was grateful to his guards, for he was afraid that otherwise the faithful Jews in Rome would murder him.
I assured him that his fears were groundless, for during Claudius’ reign the Jews had had a sufficiendy stern warning and now avoided violence against the Christians within the city walls. Cephas had also had a calming influence in Rome and had persuaded the Christians to keep away from the Jews. I also added that this had been made much easier by the adherents of Jesus of Nazareth, who had now, thanks to Cephas, increased considerably in number and included very few circumcised Jews among them.
Both Lucas the physician and Paul looked sour when Cephas’ name was mentioned. Cephas had shown great friendliness to the prisoner and had offered the services of his best pupil and Greek interpreter, Marcus. Paul had evidently abused this confidence and sent Marcus on long journeys with letters to the assemblies he had founded and over which he still watched like a lion over its prey. This was probably why Cephas was no longer pleased to see the Christians in his own flock going to listen to Paul and his involved teachings.
Lucas told me that he had taken two whole years to journey around Galilee and Judaea, gathering information on the life of Jesus of Nazareth, his miracles and teachings from people who had heard him themselves. He had meticulous notes on it all in Aramaic and was seriously considering writing his own account of Jesus’ life in Greek to show that Paul knew it all just as well as Cephas. A wealthy Greek called Theophilus, whom Paul had converted to Christianity, had already promised to publish the book.
Inasfar as I could judge, they received handsome gifts from the Christian assemblies in Corinth and Asia, which Paul jealously guarded to keep them away from both the faithful Jews and other sects among the Christians. I saw that his time was filled with writing admonitory letters to them, since he did not have many followers in Rome.