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father�s curse, now and forever, even if we always wish for the be different from what I am. No one can teach an old dog new tricks. I do not know how to begin. But you know that I have never wished to return to Britain, despite my interests there and my desire to see Lugundanum growing into a real town. I am afraid I should no longer see Britain as the lovely country I experienced in my youth during my journeys with Lugunda. Perhaps I was bewitched by the Druids then and even Britain seems beautiful to me, but I do not wish to lose this memory by going there again with my fifty-year-old coarsened and dulled senses, now that I no longer believe good of human beings. But this spring I have been able to live as if I were still young. Naturally the whole thing has been a fragile enchantment of the kind that dulls the sight with laughter and tears in a man such as I. You are unlikely ever to meet her, my son, for I myself think it better never to see her again after this, both for her own sake as well as for my own. She is of comparatively low descent, but her parents have maintained the ancient traditions and simple customs of the country because of their poverty. She is even surprised that my tunic is of silk. I have liked telling her about past events in my life, beginning from the lion cubs which my wife Sabina took into our bed and forced me to feed. She has listened to me patiently and at the same time I have been able to observe the changes of expression in her unusual eyes. It has also been necessary for me to search my memory in the evenings as I partly wrote and partly dictated these memoirs, which I hope will one day be useful to you so that you do not believe too much good of human beings and be disappointed. No ruler can wholeheartedly trust any single man. It is the heaviest burden of absolute rule. Remember too, my son, that too great a dependence brings its revenge. For I love you with all my heart and you are the only real meaning in my life, even if you yourself do not feel it so. It is as if, by meeting in her a late, much too wonderful and tender love, I had learned to love you more than before and also understand your mother and her less weak sides better. I forgive her the words she occasionally spoke so intemperately. On the other hand I hope very much that she will forgive me that I cannot
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Nothing evil has happened between us during the whole of the time I have remained behind here at this resort, which lies near her parents� farm. Once or twice I have kissed her and perhaps brushed the skin of her arm with my large fist. I have not wished for more, because I do not wish to do her harm or rouse her senses too soon to the desolation and hot wastes of human passion. It is enough for me that my stories make her cheeks flush and her eyes shine. I do not wish to tell you her name. You will not find it in my will, for in other ways I have seen to it that she will never be in need and that her dowry will be sufficiently large when the day comes when she will find a young man worthy of her. Perhaps I exaggerate her intelligence just because she listens so patiently and willingly to an elderly man, but I think her future husband will find her inborn understanding and powers of comprehension useful if he wishes to create a future in the service of the State. She will probably choose a member of the Noble Order of Equestrian Knights, for she is very fond of horses. For her sake I had my favorite mare brought here and I began to ride again. I think her very presence and compassion have helped me get better and have favored my health, as our friendship lacks all exhausting passion. I expect you have been annoyed and have even hated your father because the snow-white stallion bred from Emperor Gaius� Lightning unexpectedly vanished from your stable. It amused me to do this to remind myself of what being a Roman senator really means. Gaius had decided to appoint Lightning a senator, which was why he was so cruelly murdered. In this the Senate overrated itself somewhat, according to my knowledge of many of its members. They should have found a more valid reason. But I heard that after you had received your man-toga, you rode a snow-white stallion in the Noble Order of Knights� festive procession. A youth of your age should not do that, Julius, believe me. So I thought it best to take the stallion away from you. I prefer to give it to a wise fifteen-year-old girl in the quiet of the countryside. After all, I am the one who pays for your stable, although it is called yours.
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I cannot stop the Roman gossip which reaches me in different ways. Understand me when you come to read this. I have not considered it necessary to give any reasons. You may continue to hate me because your beautiful horse suddenly vanished. And you may prefer to hate me if you have not enough sense to understand why it was necessary. I am thinking of giving this stallion to her as a farewell gift, for she did not consider she could accept a gold chain as a souvenir. I think she will be able to accept the horse. Her parents will have a small income from using it as a stud animal and at the same time the district�s horses will be improved. They are not much to speak of at the moment. Even my gentle old mare has roused envy here. When I think of my own life I like to remember a parable which you will recall from Linus� lectures on the life of Jesus of Nazareth. It was a master who had left his servants several pounds of silver to administer while he was away. One servant buried his pound in the earth, while the other increased his. No one can say about me that I have buried my pound; indeed I have increased my inheritance perhaps a hundredfold, but that would sound boastful. You will see in my will. But I do not mean only earthly pounds, but also other values. Anyhow, I have used almost twice as much of the best Nile paper for my memoirs as my father used in his letters to Tullia. You will be able to read those too in time. The master said to his servants: �Good and faithful servants, go in the joy of your Lord.� I think these are beautiful words, even if I cannot hope for any such thing for myself, since I have been neither good nor faithful. But Jesus of Nazareth has a strange way of striking one over the ear when one thinks one knows something. Hardly a week had gone by after I had boasted in front of my two quarrelsome guests that I never prayed for things, when, because of my stomach pains, I was begging him to stop the bleeding before I bled to death. Not even Rome�s best physician could stem the flood. But my complaint cured itself. Here in this resort with its mineral waters, I feel healthier and happier than I have for ten years. I also feel strangely sure that I shall still be needed for some purpose, although I have promised nothing. But a few more words on this radiant-eyed child who has been
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my companion and has given me such pleasure that the very sight of her has melted my heart. At first I could not think why I thought I had met her before, for everything about her seemed familiar to me, even her smallest movements. Foolishly I gave her a piece of Antonia�s soap and a flask of perfume Antonia had used. I thought that in some remote way she reminded me of Antonia and hoped that the well-known scent of soap and perfume would make this likeness even more real. But it was the opposite. I noticed that these overwhelming scents did not suit her fresh disposition. They simply disturbed me. But when I kissed her and saw her eyes darken, I saw Antonia�s face in her face, and also Lagunda�s face, and strangest of all, your mother�s face as it was in her youth. When I held her girlish body for a brief moment in my arms, without wishing her any harm, I recognized in her all those women I have loved most in my life. I know that after her no woman will share my life. I have had more than enough of my share of love. A man should not demand more. When I had Written down these last lines with my own hand, fate itself put a full stop after my memoirs. A messenger has just arrived on a sweating horse with a message to say that the Emperor of Rome, Vespasian, has died near Raete, his family�s home city. He never managed to celebrate his seventieth birthday, but is said to have tried to rise and die upright in the arms of those supporting him. His death will be kept secret for two days, until Titus has time to reach Raete. Our first task in the Senate will be to proclaim Vespasian a god. He has deserved this, for he was the most benign, unselfish, industrious and righteous of all the Emperors of Rome. It was no fault of his that he was of plebeian descent. His rank as god ought to make up for that. As an old friend, I shall reserve a membership in his college of priests, for hitherto I have never held a priestly office. It will be a necessary addition to my list of merits, with the thought of the future, dear son. In haste in my own hand, your father, MINUTUS LAUSUS MANILIANUS. Three months later, before I finally wall in these notes: It is as if Fortuna were beginning to avoid me. The terrible eruption
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of Vesuvius has recently ruined my new mansion in Herculaneum, where I was to spend my old age in a mild climate and good company. But my good fortune endured to the extent that I had not managed to go there and haggle over the builder�s bills, for had I done so I should myself have been buried under the shower of ashes. But I am afraid that this terrible omen bodes ill for Titus as a ruler, good friend of mine as he is and wishing both you and myself well. Fortunately he still has his best years before him and is called the joy and delight of mankind. Why, I do not really know. Nero was called the same in his youth. Nevertheless I think Titus will rule well and live as long as he can stave off all Domitian�s intrigues and in time confirm that you will be his heir to the throne. Never trust Domitian. What good can one expect of a man who spends his time impaling flies alive on his pen like a wanton boy?
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BOOK 14
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EPILOGUE
Minutus Lausus Millianius, holder of a triumph insignia and the rank of Consul, leader of Vespasian�s college of priests and member of the Senate of Rome, suffered during the rule of the Emperor Domitian the agonizing but wonderful death of a Christian witness in the Flavians� amphitheater, which owing to its columns, is called the Colosseum. With him died his Jewish-born wife, Claudia, and his son, Clement, as well as Consul Flavius Titus, cousin of Domitian and son of the former City Prefect of Rome. Due to their descent and high position, they were given the honor of being thrown to the lions. Senator Minutus Manlianus agreed to receive Christian baptism during his last night in the prison cells under the arena of the Colosseum, from a slave who had received the gift of grace and who was to die at the same show. He made some objections and said that he preferred to die for political reasons than for the transfiguration of Christ. At the last moment a violent quarrel broke out among the Christians over how the baptism should be accomplished. There were among them some who thought that the entire body should be submerged and others who thought a sprinkling on the head would suffice. The Flavians� amphitheater has, as we know, excellent water pipes, but mainly for wild animals and gladiators. For the condemned, drinking water is considered sufficient and this time it was rationed, for there were many condemned. Manilianus put an end to it by saying that it would suffice for the slave to spit on his bald head. This blasphemy silenced everyone, until his wife Claudia convinced him that he would need Christ�s mercy more than anyone else when he came to meet the lions, because of his evil life, his avarice and the hardness of his heart. Manilianus muttered that during his life he had also done a number of good deeds, but no one who knew him believed this. As he stepped out into the arena to face the lions, one of God�s
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miracles occurred. The oldest of the lions selected him as its victim, either because of his fleshiness or because of his high position, although he was no longer wearing his broad red band but was dressed in a tunic like all the other prisoners. But after sniffing at him, the lion began respectfully to lick his hands and feet and defend him from the rage of the other lions, so that the people rose in their seats and cried aloud in wonder, demanding that Manilianus should be pardoned They did not in fact use his name Manilianus, but a nickname which cannot be mentioned here for the sake of decency. But when Senator Minutus Manilianus saw his wife and his son torn to pieces by the lions without being able to help them, he stepped toward the Emperor�s box, followed by the old lion, raised his hand to command silence from the people and hurled such terrible accusations at Emperor Domitian that the Emperor at once had his bowmen kill him as well as the lion which had not fulfilled its task. Among other things, he maintained that Domitian had poisoned his brother Titus and that the Emperor Vespasian would never have allowed Domitian to be Emperor of Rome. The miracle which occurred to Manilianus helped the other condemned Christians to die bravely and in death praise God, for this miracle was evidence of Christ�s inexplicable grace. No one would have even imagined that Senator Manilianus had been a man of God in his life, least of all his pious wife. But his memory is preserved in the multitude of Christian witnesses. His son�s best friend, the poet Decimus Junius Juvenal, managed to flee to Britain on Manilianus� advice. Manilianus had acquired for him membership of the Noble Order of Knights and helped him into office. He held the office of Censor in his home city for a while, since Manilianus considered that a man who is known for his lax habits would from his own experience be the best judge of other people�s vices and weaknesses. Manilianus also paid for his journey to study in Egypt in company with Manilianus� son, though no one understood why.
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