The Roman (3 page)

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could not flee from the city without landing in prison, and so I thought defiantly of following Timaius� example and in that way ridding my father of my troublesome presence. My father received me quite differently from the way I had thought he would, although I ought to have imagined something like it, as he rarely behaved as other people do. Weary from his vigil and weeping, he fell on me, took me in his arms, pressed me to his breast, kissed my cheeks and my hair and rocked me gently to and fro. He had never before held me in his arms in this way and with such gentleness, for when I was small and longed for his caresses he had never wished to touch me nor even look at me. �My son Minutus,� he whispered. �I thought I had lost you forever and that you�d fled to the end of the world with that drunken veteran, because you had taken money with you. And you must not mind about Timaius, for he wished for nothing but to avenge his destiny as a slave and harness his vague philosophy on you and me, and nothing can happen in this world that is so evil that there is no way of reconciliation and forgiveness. �Oh, Minutus,� he went on, �I am not fit to raise anyone, for I have not even been able to manage my own life. But you have your mother�s forehead and your mother�s eyes and your mother�s short straight nose and your mother�s lovely mouth too. Can you ever forgive me for the hardness of my heart and my neglect of you?� My father�s incomprehensible gentleness melted my heart and I began to weep loudly, although I was already fifteen years of age. I threw myself down before him, clasped my arms around his knees and begged forgiveness for the shame I had caused him and promised to improve if he once again showed leniency. But my father too had fallen to his knees and embraced me and kissed me, so that we knelt there and begged each other�s forgiveness in turn. My relief was so great and so sweet that my father wished to take upon himself both the death of Timaius and my own guilt, that I wept even louder. But when Barbus heard my wails, he could no longer contain himself. Banging and clattering, he burst into the room with drawn sword and shield, in the belief that my father was beating me. Hard on his heels came Sophrania, weeping loudly. She tore

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me away from my father and clasped me to her own ample bosom. Both Barbus and she bade my cruel father beat them instead, since they, rather than I, should take the blame. I was still a child and had certainly meant no harm with my innocent pranks. My father rose in confusion and defended himself hotly against the accusation of cruelty by assuring them that he had not struck me. When Barbus realized his state of mind, he noisily called on all the gods of Rome and swore that he would fall on his own sword to make good his guilt, as Timaius had done. He became so excited that he probably would have done himself harm had not we all three, my father, Sophronia and I, succeeded in wresting his sword and shield from him. What he had in fact thought of doing with the shield, I did not know. Afterwards he explained that he had been afraid my father would strike him on the head and his old head could no longer bear the blows it had once borne in Armenia. My father asked Sophronia to send out for the best meat and have a feast prepared, since we must all be hungry after our escapade, and he himself had not been able to eat a thing after he discovered I had left home and that he had been so unsuccessful in bringing up his own son. He also had invitations sent to his freedmen in the city, for they had all been concerned about me. My father washed my wounds with his own hands, smeared them with healing ointment and bandaged them with clean linen, although I myself would have preferred to retain the bloodstained bandages a little longer. Barbus was given the opportunity of relating the story of the lion. My father became even more morose and accused himself even more that his son had felt himself bound to face death in a lion�s mouth rather than turn to his own father to atone for a boy�s youthful prank. Finally Barbus became thirsty from all his talk and I was left alone together with my father. He said that he realized he must talk to me about the future, for I should soon be receiving the man-toga, but he found it difficult to find words to begin. He had never before spoken to me as father to son. He looked at me with troubled eyes and sought vainly for the words which might help him to find me. I looked at him too, and I saw that his hair had grown thin and

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his face furrowed. My father was already nearer fifty than forty and in my eyes was an elderly lonely man who could enjoy neither his life nor the fortunes of his freedmen. I looked at his scrolls and for the first time realized that there was not a single idol of a god in his room, nor even an image of a genius. I remembered Timaius� malevolent accusations. �Marcus, my father,� I said. �Before his death my tutor, Timaius, told me several evil things about my mother and you. That was why I struck him on the mouth. I do not want to excuse what I did in any way, but all the same, tell me if there is anything evil. Otherwise as an adult how shall I be able to watch over my actions?� My father looked troubled, rubbed his hands together and avoided my eyes. Then he said slowly, �Your mother died giving birth to you, and that I could not forgive either you or myself until today, when I noticed that you are the image of your mother. I first feared I had lost you, then my sight returned and I realized that I have little to live for except you, my son Minutus.� �Was mother a dancing woman, a loose woman and a slave, as Timaius maintained?� I asked directly. My father was visibly upset. �You shouldn�t even speak such words, Minutus,� he cried. �Your mother was a more noble woman than any I have known, and of course she was no slave although she had, because of a promise, dedicated herself to serve Apollo for a time. I once journeyed in Galilee and Jerusalem with her, looking for the king of the Jews and his kingdom.� His words gave me courage. My voice trembled as I said, �Timaius told me that you were so involved in the secret conspiracies of the Jews that the magistrate was forced to expel you from Judaea, and this was why you did not regain your knighthood and not just because of a whim of Emperor Gaius.� My father�s voice also shook as he said, �I have waited before telling you all this until you had learned to think for yourself, and I did not have to force you to think about things which not even I fully understood. But now you stand at the crossroads and must yourself choose the direction you take. I can only hope that you choose the right one. I cannot force you, for I can only offer you invisible things which I myself do not understand.�

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�Father,� I said, appalled, �you haven�t secretly gone over to the Jewish faith, after having so much to do with them, have you?� �But Minutus,� said my father in surprise. �You have been with me at the baths and athletics. You must have seen that I don�t bear the sign of allegiance on my body. If I had, I should have been laughed out of the baths. �I don�t deny,� he went on, �that I have read a great deal in the Jewish holy scripts in order to learn to understand them better. But in reality, I bear something of a grudge against the Jews, for it was they who crucified their king. I�ve borne a grudge against the Jews because of your mother�s painful death, yes, even against their king, who on the third day arose from the dead and founded an invisible kingdom. His Jewish pupils still believe that he will return and found a visible kingdom, but all this is very involved and unreasonable, and I cannot teach you anything about it. Your mother would have been able to do so, for as a woman she understood better than I about the affairs of the kingdom, and I still cannot understand why she had to die for my sake.� I was beginning to doubt my father�s sanity and I thought about how he in all things behaved differently from most people. �Then have you drunk blood with the Jews in their superstitious rites?� I said roughly. My father looked very troubled. �This is something you cannot understand,� he said, �for you know nothing about it.� But he took a key and unlocked a chest, taking out a worn wooden goblet and holding it gently between his hands. He showed it to me. �This is your mother Myrina�s goblet,� he said, �and from this goblet we together drank the wine of immortality one moonless night on a mountain in Galilee. And the goblet did not empty, although we both drank deeply from it. And the king appeared to us and spoke to every one of us, although we were more than five hundred. To your mother, he said that never again in her life need she be thirsty, But afterwards I promised his pupils that I should never try to teach anyone these things, as they considered that the kingdom belonged to the Jews and I, as a Roman, had no part in it.�

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I realized that this was the enchanted goblet Timaius had said was of the Goddess of Fortune. I took it in my hand, but to my hand and my eyes it was but a worn wooden goblet, although I did feel a tenderness at the thought that my mother had handled it and prized it highly. I looked sympathetically at my father and said, �I cannot blame you for your superstition, for the magic arts of the Jews have confused the heads of wiser men than you. Without doubt the goblet has brought success and wealth to you, but I wish to say nothing about immortality, for I don�t want to hurt you. And as far as a new god is concerned, there are old gods who have died and returned, such as Osiris and Tammuz and Attis and Adonis and Dionysius, not to mention many others. But all these are but parables and tales which those initiated into the mysteries revere. Educated people no longer drink blood and I have had more than enough of mysteries, thanks to stupid girls who hang colored ribbons in the bushes.� My father shook his head and pressed his hands together. �Oh, if only I could make you understand,� he said. �I understand only too well, even if I am not fully grown,� I assured him. �I have, after all, learned something here in Antioch. You talk about Christ, but the new superstition is even more pernicious and shameful than the other teachings of the Jews. It�s true he was crucified, but he was by no means a king and neither did he rise from the dead. His disciples stole his body From the tomb so that they would not be ashamed before the people. It is not worth talking about him. The Jews see to all the talking and the bickering.� My father began to argue the matter with me. �He was truly a king,� he said. �It was even put in three languages on his cross. Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. I read it with my own eyes. If you don�t believe the Jews, then you must believe the Roman governor. And his disciples did not steal his body, even if the Jews did bribe the guards to say so. I know that because I myself was there and saw it all with my own eyes. And once I met him myself, on the east shore of the lake of Galilee, after he had risen from the dead. At least, I still believe that it was he. It was he himself who led me to find your mother. She at that time was having trouble in the city of Tiberias.

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Admittedly, sixteen years have passed since these events, but I can still see them clearly before my eyes when you upset me by your inability to understand.� I could not afford to make my father angry with me. �I don�t wish to argue with you about divine matters,� I said hastily. �There is only one thing I want to know. Can you return to Rome whenever you wish? Timaius maintained that you can never return to Rome because of your past.� My father stiffened, frowned and looked sternly at me. �I am Marcus Mezentius Manilianus,� he said, �and I can certainly return to Rome whenever I wish. I am not an exile and Antioch is no place of banishment. You should know that yourself. But I have my own private reasons for not going to Rome. Now I should be able to do so, if forced to, now that I am elderly and no longer as receptive to influences as I was when I was younger. Other reasons you need not ask about. You would not understand them.� I was pleased with his assurances and cried, �You spoke of a dividing of the ways and my future which I myself must choose. What were you thinking about?� My father wiped his forehead hesitantly, weighed his words carefully and finally said, �The men here in Antioch who know the way best have nowadays begun to realize that the kingdom does not belong only to the Jews. I suspect, or to be quite honest, I know, that even uncircumcised Greeks and Syrians have been baptized and allowed to take part in their meals. This has aroused many disputes, but at the moment there is a Jew here from Cyprus whom I once met in Jerusalem. He has with him, as his helper, a Jew called Saul, from Tarsus, whom I had also seen during his time in Damascus, once when he was led into the city. He had lost his sight during a divine revelation, but later it was returned to him. He is a man worth meeting. My dearest wish is that you should seek out these men and listen to their teachings. If they can convince you, they will baptize you as a subject of the kingdom of Christ and you will be allowed to partake in their secret meals, That is, without circumcision, for you need not fear coming under the jurisdiction of Jewish law.� I could not believe my ears. �You really wish me to be initiated into Jewish rites?� I cried.

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�To worship some crucified king and a kingdom that doesn�t exist? What else can one call something one cannot see?� �The fault is mine,� my father said impatiently, �and I am sure I am using the wrong words, as I cannot convince you. Anyhow, you would have nothing to lose by listening to what these men have to say.� But the very thought filled me with fear. �I�ll never let the Jews sprinkle their consecrated water over me,� I cried. �And neither will I agree to drink blood with them. Then I�d lose the last remaining shreds of my good reputation.� Once again my father tried patiently to explain that in any case Saul was an educated man and a Jew who had been to the school of rhetoric in Tarsus, and not only slaves and craftsmen, but also many noble ladies in Antioch secretly went to listen to him. But I put my hands over my ears, stamped my foot, and cried shrilly and uncontrollably, �No, no, no!� My father returned to his senses and said in colder tones, �The choice lies with you. The learned Emperor Claudius has no doubt calculated that next spring it will be eight hundred years since the foundation of the city. To be sure, the god Augustus celebrated this centenary, and there are many people still alive who joined in. But another centenary feast will give us an excellent reason for going to Rome.� Before he even had time to finish, I had flung my arms around his neck, kissed him, cried aloud in delight and rushed round the room, for I was still but a boy. Then his freedmen began to arrive for the feast and he had to go out into the hall to greet them and receive their gifts. I stood beside my father as a sign that he meant to stand by me in all things. They were very pleased about this, stroked my hair, consoled me over the loss of my horse and admired my bandages. When they were lying at table and I was sitting on a stool at my father�s feet, since I was still a minor, my father explained that the point of this meeting was a family consultation about my future. �Let us begin by fortifying ourselves with wine. Wine loosens the tongue, and we need all the good advice we can get.� He did not sprinkle wine onto the floor, but Barbus was not frightened by this atheism. He made an offering to the gods