Waki Waltari

The Roman by Mika Waltari

“What do I care about your promise?” wailed Claudia. “I’m cursing myself. I am the flesh of my mother’s flesh and the profligate Claudius is my father. I can’t help it if I am deeply disturbed to see you lying in my bed.”

But her hands were as cold as ice when she clasped mine in them. Her lips too were cold when she bent down and kissed me.

“Oh, Minutus,” she whispered. “I haven’t had the courage to confess to you before that my cousin Gaius violated me when I was only a child. It amused him sometimes to sleep in turn with his sisters. That is why I’ve hated all men. You’re the only one I haven’t hated, because you accepted me as a friend without knowing who I was.”

What more need I say? To console her, I drew her into bed with me and she trembled with cold and shame. And neither can I justify my action by saying she was older than I, for I must admit I became more and more ardent until she came to me, laughing and crying, and I realized that I loved her.

When we woke in the morning, we both felt so happy that we did not want to think about anything but ourselves. Radiating happiness, Claudia was beautiful in my eyes despite her coarse features and thick eyebrows. Lugunda became a distant shadow. Claudia was a mature woman in comparison to that immature, capricious girl.

We exchanged no promises and did not even wish to think of the future yet. If I were oppressed by a vague feeling of guilt, I comforted myself with the thought that Claudia knew very well what she was going. At least she had something else to think about besides the superstitious mysteries of the Christians. I was pleased about that.

When I returned home, Aunt Laelia commented acidly on the anxiety she had felt when I had been out all night without telling her about it beforehand. She looked at me carefully with her red-rimmed eyes and said reproachfully, “Your face is as radiant as if you were brooding on some shameful secret. As long as you haven’t strayed into some Syrian brothel.” She sniffed my clothes suspiciously. “No,” she went on, “you don’t smell of a brothel. But you must have spent the night somewhere. Now don’t go and get yourself involved in some sordid love affair. That will lead to nothing but trouble for both you and for others.”

My friend Lucius Pollio, whose father had become Consul that year, nunc to see me in the afternoon. He was very disturbed by the rioting.

 

 

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“The Jews are getting more and more insolent under the protection of their privileges,” he said. “The City Prefect has been interrogating arrested people all morning and has definite evidence that it is a Jew called Christus who is rousing the slaves and the mob. He’s not an ex-gladiator, as Spartacus was, but a traitor who was condemned in Jerusalem but in some way came to life after being crucified. The Prefect has ordered his arrest and has put a price on his head. But I’m afraid the man has already fled the city now that his rebellion has not succeeded.”

I was greatly tempted to explain to the learned Lucius that by Christus the Jews meant the Messiah they believed in, but I could not reveal that I knew too much about this seditious teaching of theirs. We went through the manuscript of my book once again to make the writing as clear as possible. Lucius Pollio promised to find a publisher if the book passed the acid test which public reading constitutes. According to him, the work might do quite well. Claudius would be glad to be reminded of his own successful campaign in Britain. One could flatter him by showing an interest in the affairs of Britain, and in this respect my book should prove excellent, according to Pollio.

The differences of opinion over the ownership of synagogues which had originally given rise to the rioting amongst the Jews were settled by the City Prefect, who proclaimed that all those who had contributed to the raising of them should have the right to use them. The strict Jews and the more liberal Jews had their own synagogues. But when the Jews who recognized Christ took over a synagogue, the other Jews removed the valuable scrolls and preferred to set fire to the synagogue rather than let the hated Christians take it over. From this, new troubles arose. In the end, the faithful Jews made a great political blunder by appealing to the Emperor.

Claudius was already angered by the riots which were disturbing the happiness of his new marriage. He became even angrier when the Jews dared to remind him that he would not now be Emperor but for their support. It was in fact true that Claudius’ drinking companion, Herod Agrippa, had borrowed from the rich Jews of Rome the money needed to bribe the Praetorians after the murder of Gaius Caligula. But Claudius had had to repay exorbitant interest on the money and for other reasons did not want to be reminded of this incident which had wounded his vanity.

His drunkard’s head began to shake with rage. Stammering more than usual, he ordered the Jews to leave and threatened to banish them all from Rome if he ever heard of any more disturbances.

 

 

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