have never seen a satyr and have various misconceptions about the creatures.”
Lucius sat upright. “You met a satyr in Ethiopia? I’ve never heard that story.”
“Could it be that I never told you?”
“Never! I’m sure I would have remembered.”
“Well, then. It was during my journey to the see the great lake from whence the Nile originates. On its shores one finds a colony of the naked sages, who are wiser than Greek philosophers but not quite so wise as the sages of India, to whom they are kin. They welcomed me heartily, but I could see they were in distress, and I asked the cause.
“Nightly, they were plagued by the visitations of a wild creature, a being that was goat-like from the waist down, with shaggy hind legs and hooves, and man-like from the waist up, but with goat horns and pointed ears. From their description I deduced it was a satyr, a being previously unknown in those parts. This satyr interrupted the sleep of the sages, tramping outside their huts and bleating in the middle of the night. When they confronted the satyr and complained, the creature made rude noises and obscene gestures. When they attempted to apprehend him, he proved to be swifter than even the swiftest among them, leaping and careening and causing them to trip over one another and make fools of themselves.
“The sages took me to a nearby village, where the elders informed me that the satyr’s incursions there were far more serious. At least once a month, always by night, he intruded upon the comeliest and most nubile of the women, muttering incantations in their ears while they slept, putting them under a spell and luring them into the woods. A few of the women had awakened from this spell and dared to resist him, whereupon the creature physically attacked them, strangling them and trampling them with his hooves. Two women had been killed in this way, and others had been seriously injured. The villagers were terrified of the satyr.”
“What did you do to help those people, Teacher?”
“I recalled my studies of a rare book left to us by King Midas, who was known to have a bit of satyr blood in his own veins, as could be seen by the shape of his ears. Occasionally his satyr relatives imposed on Midas’s hospitality, making chaos of his court with their wild behaviour. But as a child Midas had been told by his mother of a way to deal with satyrs, which he put to the test. Wine has a peculiar effect on them. When a satyr imbibes, he becomes intoxicated, as men do, and eventually he falls fast asleep, snoring loudly, as men do. But when the satyr awakens from this drunken stupor, his animal nature has departed from him and he is as harmless as a child. Such a tame satyr is capable of being taught to speak and even to reason. The widespread reformation of satyrs is no doubt one reason they are so very rarely seen nowadays, since such satyrs are more afraid of humans than are humans of them.
“But a wild satyr has a great aversion to wine, so the challenge is to trick him into drinking it. The villagers had reason to think this satyr drank at night from a particular cattle trough. The chief of the village had a jar of Egyptian wine left over from a recent festival. At my instruction, every drop of wine was emptied into the trough one night. In the morning it could be seen that a substantial part of the mixture of water and wine had been drunk.
“The satyr was asleep in his lair, no doubt, but where was that? I traversed the area all around the village, pricking up my ears, listening for the sound of snoring. At last I heard a faint noise. I followed it to a place the locals called the Grotto of the Nymphs. There, lying on a mossy stone amid the reeds, snoring loudly, lay the satyr, fast asleep and stinking of wine.
“The villagers were eager to awaken him, but I thought it best that he should be allowed to come to his senses in his own time. An hour later, quite abruptly, he ceased snoring, rubbed his eyes, and stood upright. The villagers were of a mind to stone him, and even began to gather up suitable rocks, but I shielded him with my own body and told the villagers they must do no harm to the creature, for now he was a changed satyr and his days of mischief were behind him. That night, at a blessedly sober festival – for all the wine was gone – the naked sages danced for the villagers, and the satyr joined them, leaping and somersaulting in the air.”
Lucius smiled. The scent of jasmine under the hot sun was intoxicating. “If I heard such a tale from any other man, I wouldn’t believe it for a moment,” he said. “But from you, Teacher-”
Hilarion rushed into the garden. From his look of alarm, he was not there to announce the arrival of the guests.
“Praetorian Guards!” he said. “They refused to wait in the vestibule-”
Armed men entered the garden.
“You must be Apollonius of Tyana,” said an officer. “I’d think this hairy fellow was your son, if I didn’t know better,” he said, smirking at Lucius. “I should think a well-born patrician could find a better teacher to model himself on, or at least one who was better groomed. But don’t worry, we’ll relieve you both of those ridiculous beards soon enough.”
Lucius was snatched up by the guards and dragged from his house. He and Apollonius were marched barefoot through the streets, towards the imperial palace, while his neighbours, alerted by the commotion, looked on. Some were aghast, but others looked smugly pleased. Lucius’s disdain for social functions, his eccentric new appearance, and his disreputable-looking visitors had caused a scandal among his well-connected neighbours on the Palatine.
They approached the same entrance to the palace at which Lucius had arrived for his dinner in the black room. He felt a surge of panic and looked to Apollonius for guidance. The Teacher did not appear to be impressed by the grand entryway, or fearful of what might lie beyond.
“Teacher, do you understand what’s happening?”
“I think so. At long last, I am to meet the emperor.”
“Forgive me, Teacher. If I had been on my guard, if Hilarion had given us more warning-”
“Then what? Would you expect me to avoid the opportunity to meet Domitian? This is why I came to Roma.”
“But, Teacher-”
“Let us be grateful that these men arrived when they did. Had they come later, they might have arrested all those visitors you were expecting, and that would have been most inconvenient for everyone concerned. Imagine such a crowd, being herded into the House of the Flavians. This way, we may hope to have the emperor’s undivided attention.”
They were taken through a maze of corridors, arriving at last in a small but opulently decorated reception room. In an ornate chair atop a dais, Domitian sat with his chin cupped in one hand, looking bored. A eunuch secretary was reading aloud to him from a scroll. When Apollonius entered the room, Domitian waved aside the secretary, who put down the scroll and took up a wax tablet and stylus to take notes.
“I’ve been listening to the charges against you, magician,” said Domitian.
Apollonius looked at him blankly.
“Have you nothing to say?”
“Are you addressing me?” said Apollonius. “I thought you were speaking to some magician, though I see no such person among us.”
“Do you deny that you practice magic, Apollonius of Tyana?”
“Does magic exist? Our ancestors believed that there were two means of obtaining favours from the gods. The first is by propitiation, whereby a mortal sacrifices an animal and begs the gods for their blessing. The second is by magic, whereby a mortal casts a spell and compels the gods to do his will. Now, the traditional method of propitiation is surely a mistake, since the gods cannot be expected to delight in the destruction of a creature they themselves imbued with life. As for magic, can it be possible to force the gods to act against their will? Such a thing would violate the order of nature.”
“That is why we call it magic, and make it a crime,” said Domitian.
Apollonius shrugged. “As I said, I see no magician here.”
“Then what do you call yourself? You dress like a beggar. You put on airs and wear long hair and a beard, like a philosopher.”
“I call myself Apollonius, which is the name I was given at birth.”
“And you, Lucius Pinarius. You would be a dead man today, but for my mercy. What excuse can you make for consorting with this magician?”
Lucius summoned his courage. “I see no magician, Dominus.”
