Waki Waltari

The Roman by Mika Waltari

When my father gave me my despicable name, he could have had no idea that he was making me Paul’s namesake. Perhaps it was in part my name which made me begin to write down these memoirs, to show that I am not quite such an insignificant man as I seem. The main reason, however, is because I am here at this resort, drinking mineral water, the physicians watching over my stomach trouble, and at first I could not find any other outlet to satisfy my need for activity. I also thought that you might find it useful to know at least something about your father when you one day come to wall in my ashes in the tomb in Caere.

During Cephas’ and Paul’s long imprisonment, I saw to it that they were well treated, and I arranged for them to meet and talk together, if under guard. As dangerous public enemies they had to be imprisoned in Tullianum, away from the anger of the people. That is not an especially healthy place, although Tullianum naturally has glorious traditions of many hundreds of years’ standing. Jugurtha was strangled there, and there too Vercingetorix’ head was crushed, and Catilina’s friends lost their lives there, and Sejanus’ little daughter was violated there before her execution as the laws prescribe, since Romans never execute a virgin.

Paul seemed to fear a painful death, but in such cases Nero was not small-minded, although he was angry about the Jewish rebellion and regarded all Jewish agitators as to blame for it. Paul was a citizen and had a legal right to be executed by the sword, a right the judges did not ques- tion at his last trial. Cephas was sentenced to be crucified according to the law, although I had no wish to inflict such a death on an old man and a friend of my father’s.

I made sure that I could accompany them on their last journey on the fresh summer morning they were taken away to be executed. I had arranged that no other Jews should be crucified at the same time. There were constant crowds on the execution places because of the Jews, but I wanted Paul and Cephas to be allowed to die alone with dignity.

At the road fork to Ostia I had to choose with whom I should go, for it had been decided that Paul would be taken to the same gate at which my father and Tullia had been executed. The judges had ordained that Cephas be taken through the Jewish quarter of the city as a warning and then crucified on the execution place for slaves near Nero’s amphitheater.

Paul was accompanied by his friend the physician Lucas, and I knew Paul would not be offended, for he was a citizen. Cephas needed my protection much more, and I feared too for his companions, Marcus and Linus. So I chose Cephas.

 

 

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I need not have worried about demonstrations from the Jews. Apart from a few lumps of clay, Cephas had nothing thrown at him. The Jews were very Jewish, and despite their bitter hatred, contented themselves with silently watching a Jewish agitator being taken away to be crucified because of the rebellion in Jerusalem. Cephas had the usual plaque around his neck on which was inscribed in Greek and Latin: Simon Petrus from Capernaum, Galilean, enemy of the people and mankind.

When we had left the city and reached the gardens, the heat began to be oppressive. I saw beads of sweat running down Cephas’ wrinkled fore-head and ordered the crossbar of the cross to be taken from him and given to an approaching Jew to carry. The soldiers had a right to do this. I then told Cephas to join me in my sedan for the last stretch, without a thought for the talk this would give rise to afterwards.

But Cephas would not have been Cephas if he had not brusquely replied that he could carry the cross on his broad shoulders to the very end without help. He did not want to sit at my side but preferred, he said, to feel the dust of the road beneath his feet for the last time, and the heat of the sun on his head, in the same way as he had felt them long ago when he had traveled with Jesus of Nazareth along the paths of Galilee. He did not even wish the rope by which he was being led to be loosened, but said that Jesus of Nazareth had foretold this and he did not want to bring shame on the prophecy. Nevertheless he leaned wearily on his worn shep-herd’s stave.

When we reached the execution place, which was stinking in the heat of the sun, I asked Cephas if he would like to be scourged first This was a merciful measure to hasten on death, although many barbarians misunderstand this. Cephas replied that scourging would not be necessary, for he had his own plans, but then he changed his mind and said humbly that he would like to go to the end in the same way as many witnesses had before him. Jesus of Nazareth had also been scourged.

But he was in no hurry. I saw a brief smile in his eyes as he turned to his companions, Marcus and Linus.

“Listen, both of you,” he said. “Listen, Marcus, although I have repeated the same thing to you many times before. Listen too, Minutus, if you wish to. Jesus said, ‘The kingdom of God is as when a man sows a seed in the earth, and sleeps and rises, nights and days, and the seed germinates and grows, but he himself does not know how. From the earth, the seed brings forth by itself first the straw, then the ear and then fills the ear with the corn. But when the seed is ripe, he sends the reaper, for then the harvest time has come.”

He shook his head incredulously, with tears of joy in his eyes, and he laughed joyously.

 

 

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