The prosecutor stepped forward. Lucius’s heart sank. It was Catullus. The blind man carried a staff and was assisted by a secretary who frequently whispered in his ear.
“Dominus, the magician Apollonius and his accomplice Lucius Pinarius have entered your divine presence,” said Catullus, “The time has come for them to submit to your judgement. The magician will be tried first. Step forward, Apollonius of Tyana. Look upon our Master and God, address him as Dominus, and beseech him to be just and merciful to you.”
Apollonius stepped forward, but he did not look at Domitian. Instead, he seemed to look everywhere else. He looked at the emperor’s small- headed companion and made a whimsical face, as one might at a child, at which the creature seemed to take fright and started back. He gazed curiously at the water clock next to Epaphroditus. He looked over his shoulder at the spectators and smiled.
Catullus’s assistant whispered furiously in his ear. Catullus struck his staff against the marble floor. “Magician! You will face and address our Master and God!”
“Very well,” said Apollonius with a shrug. He lifted his head and gazed upwards, and raised his shackled hands as high as he could. “Divine Singularity, emanation of perfection whom the Romans call Jupiter, greatest of gods!” he cried. “Reveal your wisdom to us. Render your judgement. Make known to us your will. Tell us, we beseech you, who displeases you more – the man who utters profane flattery, or the man who receives it?”
There were gasps from the onlookers.
Catullus struck his staff against the marble floor, demanding silence. “We can dispense with your formal response to the first charge against you, since, by your actions, magician, you have just given us ample reply.”
“And what was that charge?”
“That you refuse to show proper respect to Caesar and address him as Dominus.”
“You told me to look upon our Master and God, and I did. I looked upward to the Divine Singularity.”
“Don’t try to throw dust in our eyes with a pretense of piety, magician. Is it not true that you believe yourself to be a god? Is it not true that others have called you a god, and that you accepted their worship without objection?”
“Prosecutor, I am impressed,” said Apollonius. “You have done your research. I believe you must be referring to my days in India, when I sought wisdom among the sages of the Ganges. They refer to themselves as gods. When I asked them why, they answered: ‘Because we are good men.’ All creatures, despite their mortal forms, possess divinity, and to be truly good is to be godly. Before I left them, the Indian sages addressed me as ‘god,’ and I was honoured.”
“So a man can become a god simply by being good?”
“To be good is not as simple as you seem to think.”
“But if you meet a good man, you gladly call him ‘god’?”
“I do. If the man you want me to address as a god were a good man, I would gladly do so.”
Again there were gasps from the spectators. Catullus banged his staff repeatedly against the floor.
The small-headed creature was heard to mumble, in a high voice, “He isn’t even wearing shoes!”
“What’s that?” said Apollonius. “Speak up, little one.”
The creature hissed and spat, like a cat with its back up. “You come here barefoot!” he cried. “You show contempt to Caesar!”
“If I had put on the shoes I was offered, I would have shown contempt to the poor animal who provided the hide. I would no more kill a cow, a godly creature, and carve it up, simply to cover my feet, than I would kill and carve you up, my little friend, to make a pair of shoes out of you. The bounty of the soil provides all that I require to eat and clothe myself. If I must protect my feet, I wear shoes made of cloth and bark. I need not resort to the killing of fellow creatures.”
The small-headed creature pressed himself against Domitian’s leg and covered his face.
Catullus smirked. “Is it true, magician, that in your youth you took a vow of silence and did not speak for five years?”
“That is so. Silence is a language unto itself. There is much to be learned by not speaking.”
“Yet it seems that ever since then, you can’t keep your mouth shut. You may regret not keeping silent today, magician. The words you spoke just now lead nicely to the second charge against you: that you have profaned against the gods and imperiled the state by preaching against the institution of animal sacrifice. Do you deny this charge?”
Catullus signaled to Epaphroditus, who touched a switch on the water clock. Water gurgled as it flowed from one chamber to another and the lever that indicated the passage of time began to move.
Apollonius cleared his throat. “Have I said that animal sacrifice is unnecessary? Yes. Have I offended the gods and imperilled the state by doing so? No. To show fitting respect to the Divine Singularity we must offer no victim at all, nor kindle a fire, nor burn incense, nor make promises, nor offer up any sort of trinket or amulet or any other material object. For if there is a god, who is higher than all else and of such perfection that he is unique and distinguished from every other essence, then what use does this god have of our paltry offerings? Far from giving him nourishment, such material offerings can only pollute his purity. And how dare we attempt to bargain with the Divine Singularity by making promises and pleading? We should approach the Divine Singularity using only our highest faculty, which is our intelligence. By thought alone should we strive to make ourselves known to the Divine Singularity, which itself is pure thought. If we desire to make these thoughts manifest for the benefit of other mortals, then we may employ beautiful speech, which is the imperfect servant of thought. A song or an uttered prayer shared among mortals may be pleasing to the Divine Singularity, but bloody carcasses and charred remains can only be offensive to that which is perfection.”
The lever on the water clock reached its upright position, which caused a bell to be struck. The gurgling of water ceased. Apollonius smiled serenely. He had said what he had to say in exactly the allotted time.
Catullus made a face of disgust. “Do I need to state the next charge, Dominus? The accused has already sufficiently incriminated himself. To offer him more opportunities to speak will only subject your majesty to more blasphemy and sedition.”
Domitian, who had been watching the proceedings in silence, stared at Apollonius with a quizzical tilt of his head. “That this man is guilty and worthy of death, there can be no doubt. But surely the third charge against him is the most serious. It should be addressed.”
Catullus stated the next charge. “It is alleged that Apollonius of Tyana practises magic. Witnesses attest that he has had healed sick persons by the use of magical influence, and has even caused the dead to return to life, against the laws of nature. He has used magic to witness faraway events and otherwise obtain knowledge of the movements of others, including even yourself, Dominus. He has used magical powers to look into the minds of others, so that even when they remain silent, his victims cannot conceal their thoughts from him. These uses of magic, which in and of themselves violate the laws of men and gods, also constitute a clear danger to the state and to the person of Caesar. What do you say to the charge, Apollonius of Tyana?”
Again, Epaphroditus touched a switch on the water clock. Its gurgling echoed loudly in the suddenly silent room, for everyone present was intent on hearing what Apollonius had to say.