“Who are you?” said Lucius.
“You asked me that already. I am Apollonius of Tyana.”
“No, I mean-”
“Here, why don’t you stand, my friend?” Apollonius offered his hand. “Let’s take a walk.”
Lucius said little. He listened to Apollonius, who spoke of his travels. Apollonius talked about these journeys in an offhand way, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world for a man to have gone to Egypt to learn what the priests there could teach him about the hieroglyphs on the ancient tombs, and to Ethiopia to meet the naked sages who live at the source of the Nile, and even all the way to India to consort with the fabled wise men of the Ganges.
A light rain began to fall. They had wandered into an area of fine homes on the Quirinal Hill. Lucius was looking for a tavern or eatery where they might take refuge when Apollonius noticed that the door of a nearby house was open. He cocked his head.
“Do you hear that?” he said.
“I hear nothing,” said Lucius.
“No? I distinctly hear the sound of weeping, coming from that house.” Apollonius walked towards the open door.
“What are you doing?” said Lucius.
“Going inside. Where there is weeping, there is need for comfort.”
“Do you know these people?”
“I’ve never been on this street before in my life. But all streets and all people are the same. Once a man knows that, he is a stranger nowhere.”
Apollonius stepped inside the house. Against his better judgement, Lucius followed him.
Beyond the vestibule, in the atrium, a drizzling rain fell from the open skylight into a shallow pool. Beyond the pool, on the tile floor, lay the body of a young woman. She wore a white bridal gown with a purple sash around her waist. Gathered around the body were several women, all dressed for a wedding. They looked stunned. Some quietly wept. Farther back stood a group of men who looked helpless and confused.
How had Apollonius heard the sound of the women weeping, when Lucius had not? For an old man, his hearing was very acute, thought Lucius.
Apollonius looked down at the young woman. “Is this her wedding day?” he said.
One of the kneeling women looked up. There was an expression of shock on her face. “Yes. This is my daughter’s wedding day – and the gods see fit to strike her down!”
“What happened?” said Apollonius.
The woman shook her head. “We were organizing the procession to set out for the bridegroom’s house. We were in her room and I was tying the sash around her waist, and she complained I was pulling too tight. She said she couldn’t breathe. But the sash wasn’t too tight; I slipped a finger under it to show her. Still, she couldn’t catch her breath. She said her face felt hot. A servant told us it was raining. Without a word she pulled away from me and ran here, to the pool. I thought she wanted to cool her face. I told her she mustn’t get her gown wet, and then… she collapsed. She fell, just as you see her now.”
“Perhaps she only sleeps.”
“She has no heartbeat! She isn’t breathing!”
“Alas,” whispered Apollonius. He looked intently at the girl, then at the huddled women. He waved his hands before him – to get their attention, Lucius thought, but then the old man continued to move his hands, making signs in the air. Apollonius had the full attention of everyone in the room, including the men who stood farther back. They all stared at him. The women who had been weeping were now silent.
“Stand back,” said Apollonius.
Without a word, the women drew back. Apollonius circled the pool and knelt beside the girl. He put one hand on her forehead and passed the other hand over her body, not touching her. He whispered inaudible words.
Apollonius snapped his fingers. In the quiet room, where the only other sound was the fall of drizzling raindrops on the pool, the noise echoed like the breaking of a small branch. He paused, then snapped his finger twice more.
The girl shuddered, drew a deep breath, and let out a sigh. She opened her eyes, “Where am I?” she said.
Her mother cried out. The women gasped, uttered exclamations of thanksgiving, and shed tears of relief.
Some of the men began to weep as well. One of them stepped forward.
“Stranger, you brought my daughter back to life!” The man was giddy with joy.
“Your daughter is indeed alive, but I am no stranger. I am Apollonius of Tyana.”
“How did you work such a miracle? What god did you call upon?”
Apollonius shrugged. “I merely spoke to your daughter. ‘Awake, young woman!” I said. ‘The rain is about to stop, and you shall be late for your wedding. Breathe deeply and awake!’ And then, as you saw, she woke. What girl wants to be late for her own wedding?”
“But how can I repay you? Here, you must take these.” The father fetched a pair of drinking cups. “Solid silver,” he said, “decorated with bits of lapis. And not just any lapis, but the special variety flecked with gold that comes only from Bactria.”
“The workmanship is exquisite,” said Apollonius.
“They were to be a gift to my daughter and her new husband. But here, I want you to have them.”
Apollonius laughed. “What use have I for cups, when I never drink wine?”
“Drink water from them, then!” The man grinned. “Or sell them. Buy yourself a tunic with no holes in it!”
Apollonius shrugged. “A few more holes in this garment, and I shall be as splendidly arrayed as the naked sages of Ethiopia.”
The man looked puzzled but was so happy that he burst out laughing.
“I see that your daughter is on her feet again,” said Apollonius. “Go to her. She won’t be yours for much longer. You should enjoy every precious moment.”
“Precious, indeed!” said the man. “How precious I never knew until this day. Thank you, Apollonius of Tyana! May the gods bless you!” The man joined his wife, who was making a great fuss over their daughter.
Amid the hubbub, Apollonius discreetly withdrew. Lucius followed. On the way out, they passed a young Vestal who was just arriving to take her place in the procession. The sight of her sent a chill through Lucius. In the street he had to pause to collect himself. Apollonius stood by, observing him with a sympathetic smile.
“I don’t understand what happened in there,” Lucius finally said. “Was the girl dead or not?”
“Ah, wedding days! They bring out a great deal of emotion in people.”
“Are you saying they only imagined she was dead?”
Apollonius shrugged. “I suspect they were less observant than they might have been. People often are. Did you notice, for example, how the women near the misty drizzle exuded a faint but visible vapour with each exhalation?”
“Are you saying you observed such a vapour coming from the girl’s nostrils?”
“I saw what there was to see. My eyes see no more and no less than those of other men.”
Lucius raised an eyebrow. “You did something with your hands. They all watched. Did you bewitch them somehow?”
“I made them take notice of me, and when I asked them to move aside, they did so. Does that sound like magic to you?”
Lucius crossed his arms. “Those cups he offered you were quite beautiful. Quite valuable, too, I imagine.”
“I had no use for them.”
“Nonsense! As the man said, you could have sold them. Those cups would have paid for three months’ lodging in a nice apartment on the Aventine.”