my office, gave up riding and put on an excessive amount of weight.
Nevertheless, there was no great difference between me and other young men in Rome. Numerous unkempt long-haired men could be seen on the streets, dripping with sweat, singing and playing on lyres, a new generation in society who despised the rigid old customs. I myself simply felt indifferent to everything, for the best part of my life had already drifted unnoticeably by, although I was not yet thirty.
Then Nero and Otho fell out. To annoy Nero, Otho took Poppaea to Palatine with him one day. Nero naturally fell blindly in love with her and, like a spoiled child, he was used to getting what he wanted. But Poppaea rejected his advances and said that Nero had nothing which Otho could not also offer.
After the meal, Nero had a bottle of his most expensive perfume opened and all the guests were allowed to rub a little of it on themselves. When Nero was later a guest at Otho’s house, Otho had the same perfume sprayed in a mist over all those present.
It was said that Nero, in his morbid love, once had himself taken to Otho’s house in the middle of the night and hammered in vain on the door. Otho would not let him in, because Poppaea thought it was an unsuitable time for a visit. It was even said that Otho, in the presence of several people, had said to Nero, “In me you see the future Emperor.”
Whether he had got this idea from some prophecy or from elsewhere, I do not know. Nero had, however, kept his temper and laughed at him scornfully.
“I can’t even see you as a future consul,” he said.
To my surprise, Poppaea sent for me one lovely spring day when the cherry trees in the Lucullus gardens were in flower. I thought I had managed to forget her, but my indifference was obviously only on the surface for I obeyed her summons immediately, trembling with ardor. Poppaea was more beautiful than ever. Her little son was with her and she behaved as befits a loving mother. She was dressed in a silk gown which revealed rather than hid the entrancing beauty of her figure.
“Oh, Minutus,” she cried, “how I have missed you! You are the only unselfish friend I have. I must have your advice.”
I could not help feeling some distrust, remembering what had happened the last time I had been her adviser. But Poppaea gave me such an innocent smile that I could think no evil of her.
“You must have heard of the fearful difficulty I am in because of Nero,” she said. “I don’t understand how it happened. I myself have not given the slightest cause for it. But Nero is harassing me with his affection, even to the extent that dear Otho is risking falling from grace for protecting my virtue.”
She looked at me attentively. Her gray eyes suddenly turned violet and she had had her golden hair arranged so that she looked like an ivory and gold statue of a goddess. She twisted her slim fingers.
“The most terrible thing is that I cannot be entirely indifferent to Nero,” she said. “He is a handsome man, with his red hair, and his violent feelings only attract me. He is so noble, too, and such an artist when he sings. When I hear him play and sing, I am so entranced that I can only stare at him. If he were unselfish, like you for instance, he would try to protect me from my own feelings and not fan the flame in them. But perhaps he does not himself see what feelings his very presence evokes in me. Minutus, I tremble all over as soon as I see him, as I have never before trembled in the presence of a man. Fortunately, I have been able to hide it and I try to avoid him as far as is possible in my position.”
I do not know if she herself knew how I suffered when she spoke in this manner.
“You’re in great danger, Poppaea dear,” I said in horror. “You must flee. Ask Otho to apply for a proconsulship in one of the provinces. Move away from Rome.”
Poppaea stared at me as if I were mad.
“How could I live anywhere else but in Rome?” she said. “I should die of grief. But there is a much worse and even stranger thing. I shouldn’t even dare tell you if I couldn’t trust your discretion completely. A Jewish soothsayer, and you know how clever they are at that kind of thing, told me a little while ago-don’t laugh now-that one day I’d be the consort of an Emperor.”
“But my dear sweet Poppaea,” I said, “haven’t you read what Cicero says about prophecies? Don’t bother your pretty little head with such madness.”
Poppaea sulked and said sourly, “Why do you say it’s madness? Otho’s family is a very ancient one, and he has many friends in the Senate. In fact Nero can do nothing about the prophecy except by dissolving our marriage. He has his own Octavia, although he swears he’ll never bring himself to sleep with her, so great is his dislike for the poor girl. On the other hand, I cannot understand how a young Emperor can and wants to have a freed slave-girl for his bed companion. It’s so low and despicable in my view that I boil whenever I think about it.”
I was silent and thoughtful.
“What do you really want of me?” I asked finally, somewhat distrustfully.
Poppaea patted my cheek, sighed tremulously and gave me a warm look.
“Oh, Minutus,” she said. “You’re not really very clever, are you? But perhaps that’s why I like you so much. A woman needs a friend to talk to honestly about anything. If you were a real friend, you would go to Nero and tell him everything. He’d be bound to receive you if you tell him you’ve come from me. He’s already so attracted to me that I know he’d listen.”
‘What do you mean by everything?” I asked. “You’ve just said you trust my discretion.”
Poppaea drew my hand to her and pressed it to her hip.
“Tell him he must leave me alone,” she said, “because he makes me so weak. I am only a woman and he is irresistible. But if in my weakness I fell for his seduction, I should have to take my own life to retain my self-respect since I cannot live in dishonor. Tell him that definitely. Tell him about the prophecy, too, for I cannot bear the thought of Otho harming him in any way. In my stupidity, I happened to tell Otho about the prophecy and I regret doing so very much. I had no idea how ambitious he really is.”
I had not the slightest wish to run errands for Poppaea again. But her presence made me powerless and her eager trust in me appealed to my masculine need to protect the weak. True, I was beginning to suspect dimly that Poppaea was not in great need of protection. On the other hand, I thought I could not possibly be mistaken about the shy modesty in her conduct and her lovely gray eyes. She would hardly have leaned so trustfully against me and let me embrace her if she had had the slightest idea what she was arousing in my shameless body.
After searching for a long time, I found Nero in Gaius’ circus exercising his Spanish team by racing at a tremendous speed around the course against the once-exiled Gaius Sophonius Tigellinus, whom he had appointed stablemaster. There were guards at the entrance for form’s sake, but in spite of this quite a few people had gathered in the spectators’ seats to cheer Nero on and applaud him.
I had to wait a long time before Nero, sticky with sweat, finally removed his helmet and had the protective linen bandages taken from his legs. Tigellinus praised him for his rapid progress and criticized him severely for mistakes he had ‘made in the turns and with the side-horses’ reins. Nero listened humbly and accepted the advice. Quite reasonably, he trusted Tigellinus unquestioningly in all matters concerning horses and chariots.
Tigellinus gave way for no one and treated his slaves with great brutality. Tall, muscular, thin-faced, he looked arrogantly around as if conscious that there was nothing in life that could not be overcome by harshness. He had once lost everything he possessed, but as an exile he had made a fortune breeding horses and in fisheries. It was said that no woman or boy was safe in his presence.
When I indicated with grimaces and gestures that my errand was important, Nero allowed me to accompany him to the bathhouse in the garden. When I whispered Poppaea Sabina’s name in his ear, he sent all the others away and as a favor allowed me to scrub his dusty squat body clean with the pumice stone. With lively questions, he managed to extract from me practically everything Poppaea had said.
“Leave her in peace then,” I said solemnly. “That’s all she asks, so that she is not torn by her feelings. She wishes only to be an honorable wife. You yourself know her modesty and innocence.”
Nero burst out laughing, but then turned serious, nodding several times.
“Of course, I’d rather you had come with laurels on your spearhead, messenger,” he said. “I am surprised how well you understand women. But I’ve had enough of their whims. There are other women in the world besides Lollia Poppaea. So I’ll leave her in peace. She herself will have to see that she doesn’t keep bobbing up in front of my eyes as she has done hitherto. Greet her from me and tell her that her conditions are much too demanding.”
“But she hasn’t made any conditions,” I protested in confusion.
Nero looked at me pityingly.
