The Roman sotk-2

by Mika Waltari

  The conspiracy had, however, been easily suppressed since these cowardly Christians enthusiastically denounced each other as soon as they were caught. Once he, Nero, had heard of the matter he had immediately taken measures to protect the State and punish the fire-raisers of Rome. He had had excellent support from the Praetorian Prefect, Tigellinus, who had earned full recognition from the Senate.

  To give the city fathers time to cogitate on the matter, Nero now went on to give a brief account of the origins of the Christian superstition. It had originally been founded in Galilee by a Jewish troublemaker called Christ. He had been condemned to death as a State criminal by Procurator Pontius Pilate during the reign of Emperor Tiberius, and the resultant disturbances had then been temporarily suppressed. But by spreading the rumor that this criminal had risen from the dead, his disciples revived the superstition in Judaea, from whence it had spread farther and farther like a creeping plague.

  The Jews disowned the Christian superstition, said Nero, and they could not be accused of this conspiracy, as certain people had done in their prejudiced hatred of the Jews. On the contrary, the Jews lived under the protection of their special rights and to a great extent governed by their own wise council as useful inhabitants of Rome.

  This statement was not met with much response from the Senate. The Senate had never approved of the exceptional rights which many Emperors had granted the Jews in Rome and often reconfirmed. Why should we tolerate a State within the State?

  “Nero is often said to be too humane in his punishment of criminals,” Nero continued emphatically. “It is said that he is allowing the strict customs of our forefathers to be forgotten and that he tempts youth into an effeminate life instead of cultivating military virtues. The moment has now come to show that Nero is not afraid to see blood, as has been whispered by certain soured Stoics.

  “An unprecedented crime demands an unprecedented punishment. Nero has called on his artistic imagination to assist in offering the Senate and the people of Rome a spectacle such as he hopes will never be forgotten in the annals of Rome. Respected fathers, with your own eyes you will see in my circus how Nero punishes the Christians, the enemies of mankind.”

  After having spoken about himself formally in the third person, he then turned to the first person and jestingly suggested, with humble respect, that all other matters be postponed until the next meeting of the Senate, and that the city fathers could now go to the circus, presuming, of course, that the Consuls had no objections.

  The Consuls thanked Nero on behalf of their offices for his foresight and swift action in preserving the fatherland from the threat of danger, and expressed their pleasure that he had found the true instigators of the fire of Rome. This was useful to the State in that it once and for all forestalled the many foolish rumors that were circulating. The Consuls suggested on their part that a summary of Nero’s speech should be published in the State notices and approved the suggestion to close the meeting. In accordance with their duty, they asked whether any of the venerable fathers might possibly wish to say anything, although they thought everything was quite clear.

  Senator Paetus Thrasea, whose vanity had been pricked by Nero’s thrust at sour Stoics; asked for the floor and suggested mockingly that the Senate should at the same time decide on the necessary thanksgiving offerings to the gods in connection with the averting of this great danger.

  Thanksgiving offerings had already been carried out for a number of other infamous deeds. Why should the Christians be less of a reason? Nero seemed to fear witchcraft as much as antagonism to shows. Nero pretended not to hear, but just stamped his foot to hurry the whole matter along, and the Senate hastily voted for this customary thanksgiving to Jupiter Custos and the other gods. The Consuls asked impatiently if anyone else wished to speak.

  Then, quite against his usual practice, my father, Marcus Mezentius Manilianus, rose to his feet so that his voice should be heard better, and stammeringly asked for the right to speak. Several senators sitting near him pulled at his toga and whispered to him to keep quiet, for it appeared to them that he was drunk. But my father gathered his toga around his arms and began to speak, his bald head trembling with rage.

  “Consuls, fathers, you Nero, the leader of your equals,” he said. “You all know that I have seldom opened my mouth at the sessions of the Senate. I cannot boast of any great wisdom, although I have for seventeen years given my best for the common good in the committee on Eastern affairs. I have seen and heard much that has been infamous and unholy in this memorable Curia, but my old eyes have never witnessed anything so shameful as that which I have seen this morning. Have we sunk so low that the Senate of Rome sits in silence and agrees to the execution of what is, as far as I know, thousands of men and women, among them hundreds of citizens and even a few knights, in the cruelest possible way, on evidence not proven, without legal trial, as if it were all a simple routine matter?”

  Cries of disapproval were heard, and Tigellinus was permitted to give an explanation.

  “There is not a single knight among them,” he said. “Or if there is, then he has kept his rank secret in shame for his crime.”

  “Do I understand from what you say,” asked Nero with ill-concealed impatience, “that you doubt my honor and sense of justice, Marcus Manilianus?”

  “I’ve had enough,” my father went on, “of swallowing the waters of the Roman sewers so that they choke me. But now I shall bear witness that I myself was in Jerusalem and Galilee in the days of Pontius Pilate and saw with my own eyes Jesus of Nazareth being crucified, he who is not only called Christ, but who really is Christ and the Son of God, for I also saw with my own eyes that his tomb was empty and that he had risen from the dead on the third day, regardless of all the lies of the Jews.”

  Many cried out that my father had gone mad, but the most inquisitive demantled that he should go on. In fact most of the senators bore a grudge against Nero and against the Imperial powers in general. Always remember that, Julius, my son.

  So my father was allowed to continue.

  “In silence,” he said, “and in all my human weakness, I acknowledged him as Christ long ago, although in my own life I have not been able to keep his message. But I think he will forgive me my sins and perhaps allow me a small place in his kingdom, whatever that kingdom looks like, and on that I am not yet clear. I think it is a kingdom of mercy, of peace and of clarity, here or there, or somewhere else. But this kingdom has no political significance. So the Christians have no political aims either, other than that they think that the only true freedom for a human being lies in Christ and by following his way. The ways can be many and I shall not become involved in their differences, but I believe that they all lead to his kingdom in the end. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, have mercy on my sinful soul.”

  The Consuls interrupted him now, for he was wandering off the point and beginning to philosophize.

  “I do not wish to try your patience with nonsense,” said Nero in his turn. “Marcus Manilianus has said what he has to say. On my part, I have always considered that my father, the god Claudius, was mad when he had his wife Messalina and so many noblemen executed that he had to fill the Senate with so many useless members. Marcus Manilianus’ own words prove that he is not worthy of his purple braid nor his red boots. Obviously his mind is confused and why this is so, I cannot guess. I suggest that in consideration for his bald head, we simply separate him from our circle and send him to some distant resort where his mental health will be restored. On this matter, we are presumably unanimous and need not vote.”

  But several senators wished to annoy Nero, as long as someone else took the consequences. So they called on Marcus to continue, if he still had anything to say. Paetus Thrasea took the floor first.

  “Naturally,” he said with feigned innocence, “we are all agreed that Marcus Mezentius is out of his mind. But divine madness sometimes makes people into seers. Perhaps he has this gift thanks to his Etruscan forefathers. If he does not b
elieve that the Christians set fire to Rome, however probable this may seem from what we have heard, then perhaps he will tell us who the real instigators were?”

  “Mock as you please, Paetus Thrasea,” said my father angrily, “but your end is also near. One does not need the gifts of a seer to see that I accuse no one of the fire of Rome, not even Nero, however much many of you would like to hear such an accusation made publicly and not merely in whispers. But I do not know Nero. I simply believe and assure you all that the Christians are innocent of the fire of Rome. I know them.”

  Nero shook his head sadly and raised one hand.

  “I made it quite clear that I do not accuse all the Christians in Rome of the fire,” he said. “I have condemned them as public enemies on sufficient grounds. If Marcus Manilianus wishes to claim that he himself is a public enemy, then the matter becomes serious and can no longer be defended on the grounds of mental derangement.”

  But Nero was profoundly mistaken if he thought he could frighten my father into silence. My father was a stubborn man in spite of his good nature and quietness.

  “One night,” he went on, “by the lake in Galilee, I met a fisherman who had been scourged. I have reason to believe that he was the risen Jesus of Nazareth. He promised me that I should die for the glorification of his name. I did not understand him then, but thought he was prophesying something evil. Now I understand and I thank him for his good prophecy. To the glory of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, I wish to state that I am a Christian and share in their baptism, their spirit and their holy meals. I shall be subjected to the same punishment as they. And further, I wish to tell you, respected fathers, in case you do not yet know it, that Nero himself is the greatest enemy of mankind. You too are enemies of mankind as long as you endure his insane tyranny.”

  Nero whispered to the Consuls, who immediately declared the meeting secret, so that Rome should not be subjected to the shame of a member of the Senate being exposed by his hatred of mankind as a spokesman for a frightening superstition. My father had his own way. Considering a vote unnecessary, the Consul declared that the Senate had decided to strip Marcus Mezentius Manilianus of his broad purple band and his red laced boots.

  In front of the assembled Senate, two senators appointed by the Consuls removed toga and tunic from my father, his red boots were drawn from his feet and his ivory stool was smashed to pieces. After this had taken place in complete silence, suddenly Senator Pudens Pub-licola rose to his feet and in a trembling voice announced that he too was a Christian.

  But his elderly friends grabbed him and forcibly pulled him down into his place, covering his mouth with their hands as they shouted and laughed together to drown his words. Nero said that enough disgrace had already fallen on the Senate, that the meeting was now closed, and no notice need be taken of an old man’s gabbling. Pudens was a Valerian and a Publicolian. My father was only an insignificant Manilianus by adoption.

  Tigellinus now called in the centurion who was on guard in the Curia arcade, told him to take ten Praetorians and remove my father to the nearest place of execution outside the city walls, avoiding attracting attention at all costs.

  To be just, he should have been taken to the circus to be executed in the same way as the other Christians, but to avoid scandal, it was better to have him taken outside the city walls in secret. There he would be decapitated with a sword.

  Naturally the centurion and his men were furious, for they were afraid they would be too late for the show in the circus. As my father was now quite naked, they snatched a cape from a slave who had been standing staring at the senators leaving the Curia, and flung it over him. The slave began running after my father, whimpering and trying to retrieve his only piece of clothing.

  The wives of the senators were sitting waiting in their husbands’ sedans. Because of the long journey they had to make, the idea was that the procession, with senators and matrons separated, would form just outside the circus, to which the image of the gods of Rome had already been borne on their cushions. Tullia became impatient when nothing was heard of my father and stepped out of her sedan to go and find him. She had thought that he had behaved oddly in other ways the night before.

  When Tullia asked after her husband, not one of the senators dared answer her, for that part of the meeting had been declared secret and they had sworn an oath on it. The confusion was increased when Pudens loudly demantled to be taken home since he did not wish to witness the infamous circus show.

  Several senators who were secretly in sympathy with the Christians and hated Nero and respected my father’s manly behavior, although they thought him a little mad, were encouraged to follow Pudens’ example and stay away from the procession.

  As Tullia scuttled back and forth outside the Curia like an agitated hen, loudly complaining about my father’s absentmindedness and dilatoriness, she caught sight of a plaintive slave and an old man with a slave cape over his shoulders being led away by some Praetorians. When she got nearer, she recognized my father and, utterly dumbfounded, stopped with her arms outstretched, barring their way.

  “What on earth are you up to again, Marcus?” she asked. “Whatever is all this about? I’m not forcing you to go to the circus if you find it so distasteful. There are others here who are not going. Come, let’s go home quietly if you like. I won’t even quarrel with you.”

  The centurion, in his haste, struck her with his stave and told her to be off. At first Tullia could not believe her ears, but then she was so angry she rushed at him in order to scratch the eyes out of his stupid head, at the same time crying out that he would immediately be clapped in irons for daring to touch the wife of a senator.

  And so the scandal became public. Several women got out of their sedans, ignoring their husbands’ protests, and hurried to Tullia’s assistance. When this well-dressed group of women surrounded the Praetorians, all loudly asking what had happened and what it was all about, my father was troubled by the attention they were attracting and turned to speak to Tullia.

  “I am no longer a senator,” he said. “I am going with the centurion of my own free will. Remember your rank and don’t shriek like a fishwife. As far as I am concerned, you can go alone to the circus. I don’t think there’s anything to stop you.”

  “Hercules save me,” said Tullia, bursting into tears, “no one has ever called me a fishwife before. If you’re so offended by what I said about your Christians last night, then you might have said so straight out instead of sulking all evening. There’s nothing worse than a man who won’t speak out, but just remains as dumb as an ox for days and days.”

  Several senators’ wives laughingly agreed in an attempt to smooth things over.

  “That’s right, Manilianus,” they said. “You needn’t throw away your ivory stool just because of a little squabble. Stop this foolishness now and forgive Tullia if she’s hurt you in some way. You are man and wife, after all, and you’ve grown gray respectably together over the years.”

  Tullia was deeply offended and snatched her festive veil from her head.

  “Look for yourselves, you old gossips,” she cried, “and see if I’ve got as much as one single gray hair in my head. And it’s not dyed either, although I do use Arabian rinses, of course, to bring out the natural color of my hair. All that nonsense about dyeing it is just envy and slander.”

  “This is a solemn moment in my life,” my father said to the centurion, “perhaps the most solemn ever. I cannot endure this female chatter a moment longer. Take me away from this dreadful noise as you have been ordered to.”

  But the women were still all around them and the centurion did not dare order his men to make a way for them by force for he had already been reprimantled for simply touching Tullia. Besides, he was not quite sure what was happening.

  When Tigellinus noticed the crowd gathering and the noise increasing, he pushed his way through to my father, his face gray with anger, and he struck Tullia in the chest with his fist.

  “Get to Orcus
, you damned bitch,” he said. “You’re no senator’s wife any longer and you’re not protected by rank. If you don’t keep your mouth shut at once, I’ll have you arrested for disturbing the peace and insulting the Senate.”

  Tullia turned deathly pale when she saw that he was serious, but her sudden fear did not affect her pride.

  “Servant of the devil,” she swore, in her haste remembering only the ways of speech of my father’s friends. “Stick to haggling over horses and fornicating with pretty boys. You’re overstepping your authority when you strike a Roman woman in front of the Curia. Only the City Prefect has the right to arrest me. Your own crude behavior will arouse more anger than my polite request to know what is going on and where my husband is going with his guard of honor. I’ll appeal to the Emperor.”

  Nero had already reprimantled Tigellinus for mismanaging the arrest of the Christians and Tigellinus was annoyed about this. So he pointed to the Curia.

  “Nero is still there,” he sneered. “Hurry up and appeal to him. He knows what’s going on.”

  “Don’t throw your life away just for my sake, my dear Tullia,” my father warned her. “And don’t spoil the last moments of my life. Forgive me if I have hurt you, and forgive me for not being the husband you wished for. You have always been a good wife to me, although we’ve disagreed on so many things.”

  Tullia was so happy that she completely forgot Tigellinus and flung her arms around my father.

  “Did you really say ‘my dear Tullia’?” she cried. “Wait just a moment and I’ll soon be back.”

  Smiling tearfully, she went across to Nero, who was looking discomfited, and greeted him respectfully.

  “Be so gracious as to explain to me,” she said, “what kind of unfortunate misunderstanding this is. Everything can be remedied with good will on both sides.”

  “Your husband has deeply offended me,” said Nero, “but that I can, of course, forgive him. Unfortunately he has also publicly declared in front of the Senate that he is a Christian. The Senate has removed from him his rank and office and condemned him to be executed by the sword as a public enemy. Be so good as to keep silent, for we wish to avoid public scandal. I have nothing against you. You may retain your property, but your husband’s property must be confiscated by the State because of his crime.”