Waki Waltari

The Roman by Mika Waltari

I came straight to the point and asked whether Seneca would be willing to receive the Imperial office after Nero and bring peace and order back to the country. He need not be involved in Nero’s death. All he need do was be present in the city on a certain day, prepared to go to the Praetorians with his money bags ready. I had reckoned that thirty million sesterces would be enough, if every man, for instance, received two thousand and tribunes and centurions in equivalent grades more according to rank and position.

Fenius Rufus did not want any payment. All he asked was that the State should compensate him later for the losses he had suffered in the grain trade through Nero’s caprices. In that case, it would be enough that his debts were paid within a reasonable time. I hurriedly added that I should be prepared to raise some of the money if Seneca did not wish to provide the entire sum for financial reasons.

Seneca straightened up and looked at me with frighteningly cold eyes containing not an iota of love of mankind.

“I know you inside out, Minutus,” he said. “So my first thought was that Nero had sent you here to test my loyalty in some cunning manner, since you are the most suitable of all his friends for that purpose. But you obviously know much too much about the conspiracy since you can repeat so many names. If you were an informer, then several heads would already have rolled. I am not asking you for your motives, but only who has given you the authority to turn to me.”

I told him that no one had done so. Indeed, this was completely my own idea, for I regarded him as the best and noblest man to rule over Rome and thought I could find widespread support for him among the conspirators if I received his approval to it. Seneca calmed down a little.

“Don’t think you are the first to turn to me in this matter,” he said. “Piso’s nearest man, Antonius Natalis, whom you know, was here quite recently to inquire after my poor health and why I refused so definitely to receive Piso and deal with him openly. But I have no reason to support a man like Piso. So I replied that middlemen are evil and personal contact less suitable, but that my own life after this would be dependent on Piso’s safety. And so it is. If the conspiracy is exposed, from which may the inex- plicable God protect us all, then a careless visit to me would alone be enough to doom me to destruction.

“The murder of Nero is more than just contemplated,” he went on thoughtfully. “Piso would find his best opportunity at his villa in Baiae. Nero often visits it without a guard, to bathe and amuse himself. But Piso says hypocritically that he cannot violate the sanctity of a meal and the rules of hospitality by murdering a guest, as if a man like Piso ever worshiped any gods. In fact Nero’s murder would give offense in many

 

 

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quarters. Lucius Silanus, for instance, has wisely refused to approve such a fearful crime as murdering the Emperor. Piso himself has passed over Consul Atticus Vestinus because Vestinus is an industrious man who might really try to reinstate the republic. As Consul he would have good opportunities to take over power after a murder.”

I realized that Seneca knew more about the conspiracy than I did, and that as an experienced statesman he had carefully weighed the situation. So I apologized to him for having disturbed him, however well-meaningly, and I assured him that in any case he need not worry where I was concerned. I had business to do in Praeneste and it was only natural for an old pupil to make a diversion to inquire after his former tutor’s health.

I was given the impression that Seneca was not pleased when I referred to myself as a former pupil. But he looked at me with compassion when he spoke again.

“I shall say to you,” he said, “the same as I tried to teach Nero. One can hide one’s real characteristics for a while with dissimulation and servility. But in the end the act is always exposed and the sheepskin falls from the wolf. Nero has wolf blood in his veins, however much of an actor he is. So have you, Minutus, but of a more cowardly wolf.”

I did not know whether to feel proud or offended by his words. I asked in passing whether he believed that Antonia was involved in the conspiracy and was supporting Piso. Seneca shook his rumpled head warningly.

“If I were you,” he said, “I should never trust Aelia Antonia in anything. The name alone is frightening. In her is united the tainted blood of two ancient and dangerous families. I know things about her youth of which I do not wish to speak. I am simply warning you. In the name of all the gods, don’t let her join the conspiracy. You are mad if you do. She is more ambitious for power than Agrippina, who did have her good sides despite what she did.”

Seneca’s warning struck me, but I was dazzled by love and thought he was speaking from envy. A statesman who has been prematurely thrust to one side is usually bitter toward everyone. As a philosopher too, Seneca might be considered a disappointed man. In his heyday he had not been at all as prominent as he had led people to believe. I thought he was the right man to talk of dissimulation, for he himself was master of this.

As we parted, Seneca admitted that he did not believe his chances were great if a coup came about, but he was prepared to arrive in Rome on a certain day to be present and if necessary give his support to Piso, for he was sure that Piso in his vanity and extravagance would soon make things impossible. Perhaps then the time would be favorable for Seneca.

 

 

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