covered his head, changed his staff into the right hand and said, “Your tomb.”
In that manner did the gods remind me jealously of my body’s mortality and try to frighten me. But I kicked away the beetle, rose and spoke. “The act is ended, old man, and I will not thank you for the omens since one does not express thanks for them. There were five gods, and of them only the ruler of thunderbolts was male. There were three omens, two of which concerned places and the third the period of my imprisonment. But the gods were only earthly gods and their omens concerned only this life. They reminded me of death because they know that a human’s fate is death, but they themselves are bound to the earth as men are and thus, even as immortals, they are like men. I myself worship the veiled deities.”
“Speak not of them,” the augur said warningly. “The knowledge of them suffices. No one can know them, not even the gods.”
I replied, “The earth does not restrain them. Time and place do not restrain them. They rule the gods, as the gods rule men.”
“Don’t talk,” said the augur once more. “They exist. That is enough.”
2.
We returned to the streets of the Etruscans and stepped into the inn so that I might give the augur his gift. There the host met us, wringing his hands.
“It’s good that you returned, stranger, for things are happening here that I don’t understand. I don’t know whether I can let you and your family remain in my house. My trade will suffer if people begin to fear this place.”
The slaves bustled about, shouting that objects had fallen from the walls and the household god had turned its back on the hearth. Quickly I went into the room in which we had eaten. Arsinoe was sitting on the edge of the couch with a guilty look, munching on an apple, and on a bronze-legged chair beside her sat a withered old man propping the drooping lid of his right eye with a finger. He wore a bleached robe bordered in purple and on his thumb was a gold ring. When he noticed me he began painfully to explain something in Latin, but the host urged him not to exert himself.
“He is one of the city fathers,” explained the innkeeper. “Tertius Valerius, the brother of the plebeian’s friend, Publius Valerius. The events of the past years have touched him deeply ever since he had to permit both his sons to be killed in accordance with a law which his brother introduced and the Senate ratified. A short while ago he was in the Senate when the tribune was impeaching Caius Marcius, conqueror of the Volsci, and the people rioted. He lost consciousness and was carried into my house since the slaves were afraid to take him to his own house lest he die on the way. When he regained consciousness he claims he saw his wife although she died of sorrow after the loss of her sons.”
The old man began to speak in Etruscan and declared, “I saw my wife, touched her and discussed matters that only we two know. I don’t know what it means, for finally everything darkened and my wife changed into the woman before me.”
“The most amazing thing is that shortly before that I also saw my wife,” said the host, “although I know that she is visiting relatives in Veii and Veil is a full day’s journey from here. But with my own eyes I saw her walking in the court. In the name of my guardian spirit I swear that I saw her and touched her, for I ran to embrace her, asking, ‘When did you return from Veii and why so soon?’ Only then did I realize that I had touched this woman who had awakened from a sleep and was walking about the house.”
“He is lying,” declared Arsinoe. “They are both lying. I awakened only now and can remember nothing unusual. The old man was just staring at me. He hasn’t tried to lie with me nor would he be capable of it.”
I said angrily, “You could turn any house upside down with your pranks, but perhaps the goddess entered you as you slept and you really don’t know what happened.”
Tertius Valerius was sufficiently educated to stammer a few words in Greek. Turning to him I said, “You saw the vision in a twilight condition. Undoubtedly a blood-vessel in your brain burst from the shock you experienced at the market place, as I can see that from your drooping eyelid. Your wife appeared to you in the guise of my wife to warn you to take care of yourself and not to become involved in disputes that only injure your health. The vision signified no more than that.”
“Are you a physician?” asked Tertius Valerius.
“No, but I was friend to one of the renowned physicians of the island of Cos. He knew that a certain Alcmaeon has proved that disturbances in the head affect various parts of the body. Your injury is within your skull and the paralysis of your body is an indication of that and not an illness in itself. So we are told.”
The old man thought for a moment, made his decision and said, “Clearly the gods sent me to this house to meet your wife and you and to find peace of heart. I believe my wife. Had I believed her in time, both my sons would still be alive. Ambition blinded me and I thought I was the equal of my brothers and was not content to remain silent on public matters. Now my hearth is cold, my old age cheerless and the Furies whisper in my ears as I sit alone in the dark.”
He clutched Arsinoe’s hand and continued, “Both of you must accompany me to my house as my guests.”
The innkeeper took me aside. “He is a respected man and owns thousands of jugera of land. But he has been muddled for a long time and the illness has hardly improved his reason. I would doubt his vision had I myself not seen a similar one. You will be hated by his relatives if you remain in his house as his guest.”
I pondered the matter and said finally, “It is not up to me to doubt events. I thank you for your hospitality, for which I will pay you when you have counted on your tablet how much I owe you. I shall accompany this old man, my wife will put him to bed and our own servant will care for him. That is my decision.”
Face flushed, the host pulled the tablet from his belt and began to write eagerly with the stylus. He glanced at me apologetically and said, “You must realize, stranger, that I would much rather offer you my hospitality without a price on it. I would even, for certain reasons, worship you on my knees, but this is my trade and we are in Rome.”
He looked about him but saw only Tertius Valerius clutching Arsinoe’s hand tightly as though seeking protection. “Perhaps the gods wish you to go to Tertius Valerius’ house. But remember that his oldest brother was a many-time praetor who incurred the wrath of the patricians because of his law of appeal. His other brother has also been a praetor, and this brother’s son Manius even a dictator and so successful in war that an ivory seat of honor at the circus was bestowed on his family. Throughout his life Tertius has striven to equal his brothers. Sheer ambition prompted him to send his sons to the executioner’s pillar when Publius sent his own sons, and to try to watch his sons’ flogging and execution as impassively as his brother. The youths had gathered in secret to pledge their support for the last Tarquinius.”
As the host prattled on, he rapidly entered number after number in Etruscan numerals. Finally he extended the wax tablet to me with a sigh. Both sides were filled from right to left and from bottom to top.
“All this you have eaten and received,” he assured me. “Included also is what your wife and daughter and slave have eaten and what you in your generosity gave to my slaves and to the poor.”
I began to add the figures and was horrified. “You have fed the entire city of Rome at my expense! That was not my intention.”
Arsinoe stroked Tertius Valerius’ veined hand. “Don’t always be so petty, Turms,” she murmured, and tilted her head to catch the old man’s glazed glance.
Tertius Valerius rose immediately and wrapped his purple-bordered toga tightly around himself. “Leave the account to me,” he declared. “The innkeeper can send his slave to my house to fetch the copper. Let us depart.”
I tried to protest but he was stubborn and called us his friends as the host scratched his neck with the stylus in bewilderment and exclaimed, “If I once doubted, I doubt no more! A Roman paying a guest’s account? No, when his head has cleared he will begin to haggle and run my slave back and forth between our houses until my hair turns gray before I get my money.”
The old man angrily snatched the tablet from the host’s hand and with trembling fingers drew his initials in the wax. Then, without another glance at the innkeeper, he seized Arsinoe’s arm.
