by Mika Waltari
This unimaginable crime of Nero’s made many people think again, people who had understood and for political reasons forgiven him even the murder of his mother. The members of the Order of Knights who were in business, and the wealthy freedmen who controlled all business life, found cause to reconsider their political views because the new coinage reduced the whole of the public economy to confusion. Even experienced businessmen suffered stinging losses because of the change.
Only those who led a frivolous life, the idlers who were always in debt, were delighted with this move and admired Nero more than ever, for now they could pay their debts with money which was worth a fifth less than before. The clinking of citterns by long-haired singers of lampooning songs about rich men’s houses and in front of the exchanges, irritated me too. After this, all the aesthetes were more convinced than ever that nothing was impossible to Nero. They thought he was favoring the poor at the expense of the rich and had the courage to treat the Senate as he wished to. There were many senators’ sons among these flabby youths.
Hoarding of the old coinage was so general that no right-thinking person could regard it as a crime. It did not help that poor market traders and country people were imprisoned or sent to forced labor. Nero was forced to make temporary departures from his usual mild methods and threaten the coin hoarders with the death sentence. Nevertheless, no one was executed, for in the depths of his soul Nero realized that he himself was the criminal and not the poor who were attempting to hide the few genuine silver pieces which were their life’s savings.
I myself came to my senses and had one of my freedmen hurriedly form a bank and rent an exchange stand in the forum, since it was now a matter of such widespread exchange of money that the State was forced to turn to private bankers to achieve its purpose. They even received compensation for their trouble when the old coinage was delivered to the State treasury.
So no one was surprised when my freedman, in order to compete with the old established bankers who in the first confusion were not entirely clear as to what was going on, promised up to five percent in additional payments at the exchange of old coins for the new. He explained to his customers that he was doing this to acquire a reputation for his business and to help those without private means.
Shoemakers, coppersmiths and stonecutters queued up in front of his table while the old bankers watched gloomily from their own empty ones. Thanks to my freedman, within a few weeks I had received full recompense for my own exchange losses, despite the fact that he himself had privately been forced to give certain sums to the Juno Moneta college of priests, owing to the suspicion that he had not accounted for all the good coinage he had received.
At this time I secretly went into my room many times, locked the door and drank from my goblet of Fortuna, for I thought I needed some good luck. I forgave my mother in my heart for her low origins, for I too was half Greek through her and this brought me luck in business. It is said that a Greek can even cheat a Jew in business, but I do not believe this myself.
But on my father’s side I am a genuine Roman, descended from the Etruscan kings, and this can be proved in Caere. So I hold honesty in business very highly. My freedman’s exchange affairs and my earlier double accounting for the menagerie concerned only the State treasury, and were acts of self-defense on the part of an honest man, struggling against tyrannical taxation. Otherwise no sound business life would be possible.
For instance, I have never allowed my freedmen to mix chalk into the flour or mountain oils into the cooking oil, as certain insolent upstarts have succeeded in doing. Besides, one can easily be crucified for doing that. I once mentioned the matter to Fenius Rufus when he was the senior supervisor for the grain stores and mills, naturally without mentioning any names. He warned me then and said that no one in his position could afford to ignore the doctoring of grain, whoever the person was. Some sea-damaged cargoes might possibly be approved by the State, if this were of help to a friend in need. But he could go no further. Sighing, he admitted that despite his high office, he had to remain rather poor.
From Fenius Rufus my thoughts go to Tigellinus. He was now being discussed unfavorably before Nero. Whispered warnings were made that Nero was risking his reputation by favoring him and associating with him, and it was pointed out that Tigellinus had grown rich much too quickly after his appointment as City Prefect. Nero’s many gifts could not explain this away, even if Nero did make a habit of making his friends so rich that they were not tempted by bribes in the offices he appointed them to. What the friendship was like, no one really knows, but I must say I do not think an Emperor ever has any real friends.
The worst accusation leveled against Tigellinus in Nero’s view was that he had once secretly been Agrippina’s lover and thus had been banished from Rome in his youth. When Agrippina became consort to Claudius, she had arranged for Tigellinus to return, as she did for Seneca, who had had an equally doubtful relationship with Agrippina’s sister. I do not really believe the relationship between Tigellinus and Agrippina continued afterwards, at least not as long as Claudius was alive, but he had always had a weakness for her, although for political reasons he had not been able to prevent murder.
For many reasons Nero decided it would be wise to reinstate Fenius Rufus as deputy Prefect of the Praetorians alongside Tigellinus. He was given the overseas cases to deal with, while Tigellinus looked after the military side. Tigellinus was understandably embittered by this, for his best source of income now ran dry. I know from my own experience that no one is ever so rich that he does not wish to see his wealth further increased. This is not nonsense, but one of the things a fortune inevitably brings with it, and something against which one is powerless.
Because of the uneasy state of financial affairs, prices continued to rise and by considerably more than the fifth by which Nero had lowered the value of money. Nero issued many edicts to try to keep prices under control and punish usurers, but the result was that the goods simply vanished from the shops. In the halls and marketplaces the people were soon unable to buy their green vegetables, meat, lentils and root vegetables, but had to go out into the country or turn to tradesmen who crept around at dusk from house to house with their baskets, defying the magistrates by selling at high prices.
There was no real shortage of things. It was just that no one wanted to sell his goods at unnaturally forced prices, but preferred to be idle or lock up their stores. If, for instance, one needed new sandals for formal occasions, or a good tunic, or even a buckle, one had to beg and plead with a merchant to bring what one was asking for out from under the counter and then break the law by paying the right price for it.
For all these reasons, the Pisonian conspiracy spread like wildfire when it became known that a few resolute men within the Order of Knights were prepared to seize power and overthrow Nero, as soon as they could decide how the power would be shared and who should replace the Emperor. The economic crisis made the conspiracy seem Rome’s only salvation and everyone rushed to join it. Even Nero’s closest friends thought it safe to give their support to it, since it seemed evident that the conspiracy would succeed as discontent was rife both in Rome and in the provinces and there was more than enough money to pay the bonuses to the Praetorians.
Fenius Rufus, who was still in charge of the grain stores in addition to holding his Prefect’s office since no other honest man could be found, unhesitatingly joined the conspiracy. Due to the artificial lowering of the price of corn, he had suffered great losses and was deeply in debt. Nero refused to consider the State’s making up the difference between the true price of grain and its forced price. Nor would the growers in Egypt and Africa sell their grain at this price, but either stored it or did not even sow their fields.
Apart from Rufus, the Praetorian tribunes and the centurions were quite openly involved in the conspiracy, the Praetorians naturally being bitter that their pay was in the new coinage and with no increase. The conspirators were so certain they would succeed that the
y sought to keep the whole enterprise inside Rome, save for a few strategically important Italian cities. They therefore refused help from powerful men in the provinces and in this way offended many important people.
In my view, their greatest fault lay in that they thought they did not need the support of the legions, which they could have got quite easily in Germany and Britain. Corbulo in the East would hardly have become involved in it since he was completely absorbed by his Parthian war, and was also quite without political ambitions. I think he was one of the few people who never even heard the rumors about the plan.
As I had put my affairs in order, perhaps I did not think sufficiently about the needs of the people. On my part I was seized with a kind of spring enchantment. I was thirty-five years old, past bothering with immature girls except possibly as a passing pleasure, but at an age when a man is ripe for true passion and wishes for an experienced Woman of equal birth as a companion.
I still find it difficult to write openly about these things. Perhaps it will suffice to say that, avoiding any unnecessary publicity, I began to visit Antonia’s house quite often. We had so much to talk to each other about that sometimes I could not leave her handsome house on Palatine until dawn. She was a daughter of Claudius and thus had some of Marcus Antonius’ tainted blood in her. And she was an Aelius on her mother’s side as well. Her mother was the adoptive sister of Sejanus. That should be sufficient explanation for anyone who knows.
Your mother was also Claudius’ daughter, and I must admit that after bearing you and after her former hard life, she had calmed down considerably. She no longer shared my bed. Indeed, I seemed to suffer from a kind of deficiency disease in this respect until my friendship with Antonia cured me.
It was at dawn one spring morning, when the birds had just begun to sing and the flowers were fragrant in Antonia’s beautiful garden, from which all traces of the fire had now been erased by new bushes and whole trees, that I first heard about Piso’s conspiracy from Antonia. Exhausted from the joy and friendship, I was standing hand in hand with her, leaning against one of the slender pillars in her summer house, unable to drag myself away from her, although we had begun to say farewell to each other at least two hours earlier.
“Minutus, my dearest,” she said. Perhaps I am wrong to repeat her confession word for word, but on the other hand I have written things in connection with Sabina which might make an ignoramus doubt my manhood. “Oh, my dearest,” she said then. “No man has ever been so tender and good to me and known how to take me in his arms so wonderfully as you have. So I know I shall love you now, always and eternally. I should like us to meet after death as shades in the Elysian fields.”
“Why do you talk of Elysium?” I asked, thrusting out my chest. ‘We are happy now. Indeed I am happier than I have ever been before. Don’t let us think of Charon, although I’m willing to have a gold piece put in my mouth when I die to pay him in a way which is worthy of you.”
She squeezed my hand in her slim fingers.
“Minutus,” she said, “I can no longer hide anything from you, nor do I want to. And I do not know which of us is nearer to death, you or I. Nero’s time is running out. I should not want you to fall with him.”
I was dumbfounded. Then Antonia related in swift whispers all that she knew about the conspiracy and its leaders. She admitted that she had promised, when the moment was ripe and Nero was dead, as Claudius’ daughter, to go with the new Emperor to the Praetorian camp and put in a good word for him with the veterans. Naturally a gift of money would convince them even more than a few modest words from the noblest lady in Rome.
“In fact I fear not so much for my own life as for yours, my dearest,” said Antonia. “You are known as one of Nero’s friends and you have done little to make useful connections for the future. For understandable reasons, the people will demand blood when Nero is dead. And public security will demand a certain amount of bloodshed to strengthen law and order. I shouldn’t want you to lose your dear head or a crowd to trample you to death in the forum according to the secret instructions which must be given to the people when we go to the Praetorian camp.”
When I remained dumb, my head spinning and my knees weak, Antonia grew impatient and stamped her lovely foot.
“Don’t you see?” she said. “The conspiracy is so widespread and discontent so general that the plan can be put into action any day now. Every sensible man is trying to join for his own advantage. It is sheer bluff that they are still pretending to discuss how, where and when Nero could best be murdered. That can be done anytime. Several of his best friends are with us and have taken the oath. Of your own friends I shall name only Senecio, Petronius and Lucanus. The fleet in Misenum is with us. Epicharis, whom you must know from hearsay, has seduced Volucius Proculus, just as Octavia in her time tried to seduce Anicetus.”
“I know Proculus,” I said shortly.
“Of course you do,” said Antonia with sudden insight. “He was involved in my stepmother’s murder. Don’t worry, dearest. I had no feelings for Agrippina. On the contrary, she treated me even more badly, if that is possible, than Britannicus and Octavia. It was only from a sense of propriety that I did not want to take part in the thank-offerings after her death. You mustn’t be afraid of that old story. I suggest that you join the conspiracy as soon as possible and save your life. If you delay too long, then I cannot help you.”
To tell the truth, my first thought was of course to rush straight to Nero and tell him of the danger threatening him. Then I would be certain of his favor for the rest of my life. However, Antonia was sufficiently experienced to be able to read the hesitation in my face. She stroked the tips of her fingers along my lips, and, with her head on one side and her gown slipping from her firm bosom, she spoke again.
“But you can’t betray me, Minutus, can you?” she said. “No, that would be impossible when we love each other so completely. We were born for each other, as you’ve said so often in the intoxication of the moment.”
“Of course not,” I hurried to assure her. “That would never occur to me.” She had to laugh and then shrugged her shoulders as I went on irritably: “What was that you said about bluff?”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought a great deal about the whole thing,” said Antonia. “The most important thing for me, as for the other conspirators, is not the actual murder of Nero but who shall be helped into power after his death. That’s what the conspirators are trying to settle night after night. Everyone has his own ideas on the subject.”
“Gaius Piso,” I said critically. “I don’t really understand why he of all people should be the leader. True, he is a senator and a Calpurnian and is handsome. But I don’t understand what you see in him, Antonia dear, to such an extent that you’d risk your life for a man like him to go with him to the Praetorian camp.”
To be strictly accurate, I felt a stab of jealousy deep inside me. I knew Antonia and also knew that she was not so temperate as one might believe from her posture and dignified appearance. She was considerably more experienced than I was in all things, although I thought I knew a good deal. So I watched her expression carefully. She enjoyed my jealousy, burst out laughing and gave me a light slap on the cheek.
“Oh, Minutus, what on earth are you thinking about me?” she said. “I’d never creep into the bed of a man like Piso just for my own benefit, you must know me well enough to know that. I choose for myself whom I shall love and have always done so. And it’s not Piso in particular I’ve tied myself to. He’s a kind of screen for the time being. He’s stupid enough that he doesn’t suspect that the others are already intriguing behind his back. In fact the question of the use of substituting a comedian for a cittern-player has already been put. Piso has appeared in public in the theater and thus damaged his reputation just as Nero has. There are others who want to bring the republic back again and give all the power to the Senate. That insane idea would soon throw the country into civil war. I am telling you this so that you will unders
tand what conflicting interests are involved and why Nero’s murder must be postponed. I myself have said that nothing will persuade me to go to the Praetorians for the sake of the Senate. That would not befit the daughter of an Emperor.”
She looked at me thoughtfully and read my thoughts.
“I know what you are thinking,” she said. “But I can assure you that for political reasons it is too early even to think of your son Claudius Antonianus. He is but an infant and Claudia’s reputation is so doubtful that I do not think your son can be considered until he has the man-toga and Claudia is dead. Then it would be easier for me to acknowledge him as my nephew. But if you yourself were to find a place in Piso’s conspiracy, then you’d be able to improve your own position and create a political career for yourself to help Claudius Antonianus while he is still a minor. We’d be wisest to let Claudia live and look after the boy’s upbringing for the time being, don’t you think, my dearest? It would be much too obvious if I adopted him as soon as Nero was dead or he became my son in some other way.”
For the first time Antonia implied that despite my poor reputation and my low origins, she would be willing to marry me one day. I had not even dared think about such an honor, even in our most intimate moments. I noticed that I flushed and was even less able to speak than I had been when she had begun to talk about the conspiracy. Antonia looked at me smilingly, stood on her toes and kissed me on my lips as she let her soft silky hair brush my throat.
“I’ve told you I love you, Minutus,” she whispered in my ear. “I love you more than anything for your diffidence and the way you underestimate your own worth. You are a man, a wonderful man and the kind of man from whom a wise woman expects the highest.”
This struck me as ambiguous and not as flattering to me as Antonia perhaps thought. But it was true. Both Sabina and Claudia had treated me in such a way that I had always given way to their wills for the sake of peace. I thought Antonia conducted herself more worthily. I do not know how it came about that we once again went indoors to bid each other farewell.