Waki Waltari

The Roman by Mika Waltari

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 be different from what I am. No one can teach an old dog new tricks.

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.

 

 

535

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

536

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