György Spiró - Captivity

And you all know the case of Mallonia: a highborn lady who was seduced by Tiberius, but after the first time she never wanted to lie down with him again. He had her called before a court of law, and there he asked her if she had repented. On leaving the court, Mallonia went home, and with a cry of “You brute! Vile old lecher!” she stabbed herself in the heart.

The senators spoke not from memory, but related these sordid tales from scrolls they’d dug up: Caligula, since coming to power, had supposedly unearthed these documents and had them copied in substantial numbers, so that the truth about the misdeeds of Tiberius should be brought to light. “About time,” the senators would sigh. “May such things be seen no more! Never again! This must stand as a lesson to us for evermore.”

The alabarch said nothing in response to any of these accusations, but summarized them later for Philo, who responded with a sage remark:

“What Tiberius actually committed was more than enough by itself. What’s the point of spreading stupid legends on top of it?”

Marcus took the view that the crimes ascribed to the dead emperor were merely the offenses that these bullshitters themselves wished they could commit.

The alabarch was thankful that the one person whose name had not crossed anybody’s lips was that of the late, lamented Antonia, Tiberius’s sister-in-law — possibly because they were well aware that the alabarch had handled Antonia’s properties in Egypt, which had since then reverted to the emperor.

There was no end to the praises sung by the same senators for Caligula.

It was a good thing, they said, that the new emperor had managed to get rid of Macro and his father-in-law, Silanus, in time; they had become too big for their britches. They did not go into in any detail regarding the murder of Gemellus, the general opinion being that it had been worth it as the price of peace between Rome and the world at large. They did mention how Gemellus had attempted to take his own life. Since he had just attained the toga of adulthood, and had never fought in a battle, he did not know where to stick the dagger into himself; a centurion had given him some advice, but even so he could not do it — so in the end he was set upon and butchered.

Caligula had been very well advised at the beginning of his rule, and again six months later, to award each and every Roman citizen the sum of three hundred sesterces; that was the way a ruler ought to handle people.

Uri was astonished that no one in Far Side had mentioned such a thing, though citizens there also ought to have been entitled. As soon as he could, he would go off to the municipal administration and ask for his six hundred sesterces.

It was very nice, said the senators and the knights of the equestrian order, that Caligula was in favor of acting, gladiatorial combat, and, in general, everything that Tiberius, in his puritanism, had endeavored to curb. Caligula spent almost all of the immense fortune he had inherited from Tiberius—2,700,000 sesterces; the same immense sum was almost always mentioned — on games, leaving hardly anything for himself. The bare-knuckle contest between the best Campanian and African pugilists, staged not long ago for the gladiatorial games, was quite splendid. Pity you didn’t see it! A more selfless, upright, and generous ruler has not been seen since the time of Princeps Julius Caesar. Rome is at last a happy city! In making it so he has more than repaid the Italian people the 160,000 sacrificial oxen that they offered up in their joy at the emperor’s accession.

Uri still recalled the jokes that had gone around Alexandria at the time: exactly the same number of animals had been sacrificed in Caligula’s honor in three months at Jerusalem. So that was why: the Jews should not be outdone by the Romans, not even by a single animal.

And what huge bears had been slaughtered in the Circus! Four hundred of them, including two white-haired ones! And four hundred wild beasts from Libya, among them lions with colossal manes! And so many gladiators mauled to death! Wonderful!

And how republican the new emperor is in his sentiments: he revived the ancient institution of the popular assembly! (The fact that senators were capable of being pleased by this slightly astonished Uri, even though he had long believed that nothing would surprise him. Maybe they had no real fear of the institution.) And then in Italia he had knocked half a percent off the tax on goods sold at auction! And he had added a fifth judicial division! And he had extended the customary four days of the Saturnalia with a fifth, known as Youth Day! And thrown a banquet for senators and equites, along with their families, personally handing out decorative bands for the women and children! And what a fervor for building! Before long he will have finished the Temple of Divus Augustus and the rebuilding of Pompey’s Theater, which had burned down, and refurbished the city wall of Syracusa!

To peals of laughter, it was recounted that when Caligula fell ill many vowed that if only he were to recover… When, indeed, he had done just that, he kept them to their pledges! They were exceedingly surprised, but what could they do? Publius Afranius Potitus, a plebeian, had said before Caligula that he would willingly surrender his own life if only the emperor were to pull through; the emperor recovered, and Afranius was put to death, that he might not forfeit his word. A certain Atanius Secundus, a knight, announced that in the event of a favorable outcome he would fight as a gladiator; he died doing so, with many applauding as he breathed his last — a fine death! These were people who had expected to be rewarded with money; instead the public had a good laugh at their expense.

Uri could not restrain himself from saying to Philo:

“There are lousy times in store for us.”

Philo was angered; his scrawny, old little neck flushed bright red as his gaunt, wrinkled face turned purple.

“Every epoch is what we make of it!” he declared. “I can’t stand pessimism! The only reason you are not well-enough off is that you are unwilling to trust in yourself! Be hard and purposeful, my dear son!”

Uri said nothing.

The most interesting bit of news was that Caligula had departed all of a sudden to Germania. He wanted to get there before those who were preparing to murder him the moment he reached that country. The conspirators had dedicated the three swords with which they sought to shed his blood in the Temple of Mars Ultor. One of the leaders of the rebels was Lepidus, Drusilla’s widower; the other was Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus Gaetulicus, the prefect of Germany; even Drusilla’s younger sisters (that is to say, the emperor’s older sisters), Agrippina and Julia, were in on the conspiracy. The emperor exiled his older sisters to Pontia; Agrippina, with the ashes of her executed husband bound to her chest, walked out of the city gate in chains. It had not been long ago that they had enjoyed all the privileges pertaining to the Vestal Virgins: they were prayed to, they could watch races at the Hippodrome from the same section as the emperor, and they had the right to have uttered on their behalf, each year on January 1, the oaths of allegiance.

Lepidus and Gaetulicus were executed. All this had happened not long before the Jewish delegation arrived in Rome; it had not yet been made public knowledge so far but it was high time to do so, because a congratulatory delegation of senators, Claudius at their head, had already set off for Germania, and indeed had already reached there. The more well-informed senators related with chuckles that the emperor had been so angry at his cripple of an uncle leading the delegation that he had him thrown fully clothed into a nearby river.

The alabarch also laughed cheerfully, and only Uri seemed to notice the sound of teeth being gnashed.