Domitian was not listening. A fly had landed on an arm of his chair. The emperor motioned to the secretary to hand him his stylus. Domitian touched a fingertip to the point of the sharp instrument, held it poised above the fly for several heartbeats, then struck, transfixing the fly. He held up the skewered insect and smiled. “I learned to do that as a boy. Instead of using my stylus to copy Cicero, I spent whole afternoons hunting down the little pests and impaling them. It requires considerable skill.”
Apollonius shook his head. “When I met your brother in Tarsus, a fly landed on his finger. Do you know what he did? He blew the fly away, and we both laughed. Any man can end a life with a weapon, but not every man can spare a life with a puff of breath. Which man is more powerful?”
Domitian gritted his teeth. “Lucius Pinarius – you must appreciate the skillful use of a weapon. You’re a huntsman, aren’t you?”
“Not any longer, Dominus,” said Lucius. “All life is sacred. I kill nothing if I can help it.”
Domitian shook his head in disgust. He called to the Praetorians. “You, bring me a bow and a quiver of arrows. And you, go stand against that far wall, facing it. Extend your arm parallel with the floor. Press your hand against the wall with your fingers spread wide apart.”
Domitian tested the string of the bow, then notched an arrow. “This is another skill I taught myself. Observe, huntsman. I shall fire four arrows. Watch the spaces between the fingers.”
Domitian took aim. Lucius saw that neither the Praetorians nor the emperor’s secretary appeared apprehensive. This was a feat Domitian had performed many times before.
In sudden quiet, Lucius heard a low murmur. He could not make out the words, or where the sound came from. The murmur faded away. No one else seemed to have noticed. Lucius wondered if he had imagined it.
Domitian let fly four arrows in rapid succession. Each made a sharp sound like the buzzing of a wasp. With a grin of satisfaction, he lowered the bow.
“What do you think of that?” he said. “One arrow in each of the spaces between the man’s fingers. Titus could never have done such a thing-”
With a loud groan, the Praetorian collapsed against the wall, slid down, and lay crumpled on the floor. The secretary shrieked and dropped his wax tablet.
All four arrows had landed squarely in the Praetorian’s back, shot with such force that they had pierced his armour. Some of his comrades cried out and ran to help him.
“What is this?” shouted Domitian. His voice quavered. “This is your doing, magician!”
“I shot no arrows.” Apollonius held forth his shackled wrists to show that his hands were empty.
“Get the magician away from me! Lock them both away!”
“But what is the charge against me?” asked Apollonius.
“The secretary has written down everything you’ve said. Your own words will condemn you. You blasphemed the gods by ridiculing the practice of animal sacrifice. And you repeatedly offended my majesty by failing to address me as Dominus.”
“So a man can now be condemned for what he does not say, as well as for what he says? Your brother punished no man for speaking freely; you would punish a man for saying nothing.”
Domitian threw the bow against the floor, so hard that it broke and the string went flying.
Apollonius was unfazed. “And what are the charges against Lucius Pinarius?”
“Is he not your accomplice?”
“I would prefer to call him my friend. I have many friends. Will you arrest them all?”
“Wait and see, magician!”
Apollonius sighed and shook his head as the Praetorians attached chains to their manacles and pulled them from the room. The heavy shackles bit into Lucius’s ankles and wrists. The polished marble floor was cold against his bare feet.
They were taken to a subterranean cell lit only by grated openings in the ceiling. The stone walls seemed to sweat. Heaps of straw provided the only bedding. The place had a foul smell. For the disposal of wastes, there was a single bucket attached to a rope that could be pulled upwards through one of the openings.
They were not alone. It took Lucius’s eyes a long time to adjust to the dimness of the place, but gradually he counted more than fifty fellow prisoners, most of them huddled against the walls. Occasionally, Lucius heard something rustle in the straw and heard the squeak of a mouse.
Lucius felt faint. He steadied himself against a wall. He touched his forehead and found that it was as clammy as the stones against which he was leaning.
“Are you unwell?” said Apollonius.
“This place…”
“You’re thinking of her, and imagining the hole underground in which they confined her.”
“Yes.”
“Push all such imaginings from your mind, Lucius. Think only of this moment, and the place in which you find yourself. See it for what it is, nothing more and nothing less.”
“It’s horrible!”
“It’s certainly not as comfortable as your garden. And yet, we are able to breathe, and to move about. We have enough light by which to see each other, and more importantly, we are together, sharing each other’s company, and the company of these new friends with whom we find ourselves. I’m guessing they have many stories to tell. As long we possess curiosity, we shall not be bored.”
Lucius managed a rueful laugh. “Teacher, this is a prison.”
“Lucius, we mortals are in a prison every moment we live. The soul is bound inside a perishable body, enslaved by all the cravings which visit humanity. The man who built the first dwelling merely surrounded himself with yet another prison, and made himself a slave to it, for any dwelling must be maintained, just like the human body. I think that the man who lives in a palace is more surely a prisoner than the men he puts in chains. As for the place where we now find ourselves, we must reflect that we are not the first to be confined in this way. Many a wise man, despised by the mob or hated by a despot, has had to endure such a fate, and the best have done so with serene resignation. Let us strive to do the same, so that we may not be inferior to those who set an example before us.”
Some of the other prisoners, hearing him speak, drew closer.
“You’re Apollonius of Tyana, aren’t you?” said one of the men.
“I am.”
“I heard you speak once. I recognized your voice. But I’d never have known you otherwise. Your hair’s been cut, and so has your beard.” The man shook his head. “I never thought to see those snow-white tresses be shorn like fleece from a lamb! Who would have thought that Apollonius of Tyana could be put in chains?”
“The person who put me in chains thought of it, for otherwise he wouldn’t have done it,” said Apollonius.
The man laughed. “Truly, you are Apollonius. But those fetters must be causing you great pain. Look how the rough iron chafes the skin.”
“I hadn’t noticed. My thoughts are on more important things.”
“But how can you be in pain and not think about it? A man can’t ignore pain.”
“Not so,” said Apollonius. “The mind attends to what the self deems important. If there is injury, a man may choose not to feel pain, or order the pain to stop.”
The man pursed his lips. “But why are you still here? You’re a magician. Why don’t you just walk out?”
Apollonius laughed. “Like the man who me put me here, you accuse me of being a magician. Well, let us suppose that it’s true. In that case, it must be that I am here among you because I wish to be.”
“Why would any man wish to be here?” said another man, stepping forward and crossing his arms.
“Perhaps I can serve a purpose. Perhaps my words can give comfort or courage. How did you come to be here, friend?”
“The plain truth? I have too much wealth.”
Lucius saw that the speaker was dressed in a fine tunic and cloak, though his clothes were filthy from long confinement in the dank cell. His face was haggard, but folds of flesh hung from his chin, as if he had once been fat but had lost weight very quickly.