been loaded on board the ship. Your clothing. Everything. These are men I trust. Nevertheless take this dagger.”
He picked up a dagger from the nearby table and gave it to me. “You’ve watched your brothers enough to know how to use it,” he said, “and this.” He reachedfor a sack. “This is gold, the currency that all the world accepts. Take it and go.”
I always carried a dagger, and it was in the sling on my forearm but I could not shock him with this just now, so I put the dagger in my girdle and took the purse.
“Father, I’m not afraid to stand by you! Who’s turned on us? Father, you are Senator of Rome. Accused of any crime, you are entitled to a trial before the Senate.”
“Oh, my precious quick-witted daughter! You think that evil Sejanus and his
Delatores
bring charges out in the open? His
Speculatores
have already surprised your brothers and their wives and children. These are Antony’s slaves. He sent them to warn me as he fought, as he died. He saw his son dashed against the wall. Lydia, go.”
Of course I knew this was a Roman custom—to murder the entire family, to wipe out the spouse and offspring of the condemned. It was even the law. And in matters such as this, when word got out that the Emperor had turned his back on a man, any of his enemies could precede the assassins.
“You come with me,” I said. “Why do you stay here?”
“I will die a Roman in my house,” he said. “Now go if you love me, my poet, my singer, my thinker. My Lydia. Go! I will not be disobeyed. I have spent the last hour of my life arranging for your salvation! Kiss me and obey me.”
I ran to him, kissed him on the lips and at once the slaves led me through the garden.
I knew my Father. I could not revolt against him in this final wish. I knew that, in old-fashioned Roman style, he would probably take his life before the
Speculatores
broke down the front door.
When I reached the gate, when I saw the Hebrew merchants and their wagon, I couldn’t go.
This is what I saw.
My Father had cut both his wrists and was walking around the household hearth in a circle, letting the blood flow right down onto the floor. He had really given his wrists the slash. He was turning white as he walked. In his eyes there was an expression I would only come to understand later.
There came a loud crash. The front door was being bashed in. My Father stopped quite still. And two of the Praetorian Guard came at him, one making sneering remarks, “Why don’t you finish yourself off, Maximus, and save us the trouble. Go on.”
“Are you proud of yourselves!” my Father said. “Cowards. You like killing whole families? How much money do you get? Did you ever fight in a true battle. Come on, die with me!”
Turning his back on them, he whipped around with sword and dagger, and brought down both of them, as they came at him, with unanticipated thrusts. He stabbed them repeatedly.
My Father wobbled as if he would faint. He was white. The blood flowed and flowed from his wrists. His eyes rolled up into his head.
Mad schemes came to me. We must get him into the wagon. But a Roman like my Father would never have cooperated.
Suddenly the Hebrews, one young and one elderly, had me by the arms and were carrying me out of the house.
“I vowed I would save you,” said the old man. “And you will not make a liar of me to my old friend.”
“Let go of me!” I whispered. “I will see him through it!”
Throwing them off in their polite timidity I turned and saw from a great distance my Father’s body by the hearth. He had finished himself with his own dagger.
I was thrown into the wagon, my eyes closed, my hands over my mouth. I fell among soft pillows, bolts of fabric, tumbling as the wagon began to roll very slowly down the winding road of the Palatine Hill.
Soldiers shouted at us to get the hell out of the way.
The elderly Hebrew said, “I am nearly deaf, sir, what did you say?”
It worked perfectly. They rode
He picked up a dagger from the nearby table and gave it to me. “You’ve watched your brothers enough to know how to use it,” he said, “and this.” He reachedfor a sack. “This is gold, the currency that all the world accepts. Take it and go.”
I always carried a dagger, and it was in the sling on my forearm but I could not shock him with this just now, so I put the dagger in my girdle and took the purse.
“Father, I’m not afraid to stand by you! Who’s turned on us? Father, you are Senator of Rome. Accused of any crime, you are entitled to a trial before the Senate.”
“Oh, my precious quick-witted daughter! You think that evil Sejanus and his
Delatores
bring charges out in the open? His
Speculatores
have already surprised your brothers and their wives and children. These are Antony’s slaves. He sent them to warn me as he fought, as he died. He saw his son dashed against the wall. Lydia, go.”
Of course I knew this was a Roman custom—to murder the entire family, to wipe out the spouse and offspring of the condemned. It was even the law. And in matters such as this, when word got out that the Emperor had turned his back on a man, any of his enemies could precede the assassins.
“You come with me,” I said. “Why do you stay here?”
“I will die a Roman in my house,” he said. “Now go if you love me, my poet, my singer, my thinker. My Lydia. Go! I will not be disobeyed. I have spent the last hour of my life arranging for your salvation! Kiss me and obey me.”
I ran to him, kissed him on the lips and at once the slaves led me through the garden.
I knew my Father. I could not revolt against him in this final wish. I knew that, in old-fashioned Roman style, he would probably take his life before the
Speculatores
broke down the front door.
When I reached the gate, when I saw the Hebrew merchants and their wagon, I couldn’t go.
This is what I saw.
My Father had cut both his wrists and was walking around the household hearth in a circle, letting the blood flow right down onto the floor. He had really given his wrists the slash. He was turning white as he walked. In his eyes there was an expression I would only come to understand later.
There came a loud crash. The front door was being bashed in. My Father stopped quite still. And two of the Praetorian Guard came at him, one making sneering remarks, “Why don’t you finish yourself off, Maximus, and save us the trouble. Go on.”
“Are you proud of yourselves!” my Father said. “Cowards. You like killing whole families? How much money do you get? Did you ever fight in a true battle. Come on, die with me!”
Turning his back on them, he whipped around with sword and dagger, and brought down both of them, as they came at him, with unanticipated thrusts. He stabbed them repeatedly.
My Father wobbled as if he would faint. He was white. The blood flowed and flowed from his wrists. His eyes rolled up into his head.
Mad schemes came to me. We must get him into the wagon. But a Roman like my Father would never have cooperated.
Suddenly the Hebrews, one young and one elderly, had me by the arms and were carrying me out of the house.
“I vowed I would save you,” said the old man. “And you will not make a liar of me to my old friend.”
“Let go of me!” I whispered. “I will see him through it!”
Throwing them off in their polite timidity I turned and saw from a great distance my Father’s body by the hearth. He had finished himself with his own dagger.
I was thrown into the wagon, my eyes closed, my hands over my mouth. I fell among soft pillows, bolts of fabric, tumbling as the wagon began to roll very slowly down the winding road of the Palatine Hill.
Soldiers shouted at us to get the hell out of the way.
The elderly Hebrew said, “I am nearly deaf, sir, what did you say?”
It worked perfectly. They rode
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