The Man of Sorrows II — Rome, 116 AD

— Cornelis de Bondt

II — Rome 116, 117 AD

On April 21, in the year 116 AD, just after noon, Athanasius walked from the Pantheon towards Circus Flaminius carrying a large, heavy shoulder bag. There, he purchased an apartment not far from the Tiber. He paid with silver coins from his bag. The rest of the contents of his bag mainly consisted of books and some tools. He stored the books in a cabinet and spent some time looking for a suitable place to hide his silver. Eventually, he carefully pried loose a plank under his bed with a sort of chisel and concealed the coins there. He put the plank back in place and draped a large rug over it. This should suffice for now, he thought.

Afterwards, he visited the slave market and bought a slave, a young and sturdy poet from Athens named Falas Anethe. He had chosen him based on his physique, as he needed someone who could defend him in case of a potential violent confrontation. Additionally, the slave had to be able to read and write, and he seemed trustworthy, at least Athanasius sensed no underlying aggression in him. Back at his house, he told the man that he would have to work as his servant for a year, but afterwards, he would be freed and receive a substantial amount of silver coins as compensation. In exchange, Falas had to do whatever Athanasius commanded him without asking questions. His main task would be managing the household and occasionally accompanying him on special missions. Falas nodded incredulously, but Athanasius assured him that he was not deceiving him.

The first mission was to find a suitable courtesan. Athanasius asked Falas to walk around the city and discreetly inquire about the places where paid love was practiced. He wasn’t interested in ‘cheap whores’, as he called them; it had to be a clever young woman, preferably someone interested in art and history. She had to be able to read and write. There was no limit to the associated compensation. Falas believed that this wouldn’t be an easy task but said he would search and discreetly inquire here and there, and eventually, he expected to succeed. It took Falas a month to find someone who knew someone else who engaged the services of a beautiful, intelligent young woman, a courtesan who provided her services for a high fee at the client’s residence.

Several weeks later, a young, incredibly beautiful woman visited Athanasius. She introduced herself as Eva. It became evident that she possessed writing skills and had much to share about the history of the Roman Empire. She could also name eminent philosophers from ancient Greece. Through conversations with her, Athanasius realized that she had excellent taste, held interesting political views, which she would be better off not expressing publicly – a fact of which she was aware. She had an impeccable sense of whom she could say what to, or conversely, withhold information from. He noticed that he was not immune to her charms. However, he sternly reminded himself that he hadn’t chosen her for himself.
In the weeks following the first meeting with Eva, Athanasius regularly met up with her. He wanted to get to know her better before entrusting her with the plan he had devised. They conversed about art, science, and religion, often over a meal. Falas turned out to be an excellent cook, and sometimes he joined in the conversation after the meal. He talked about Greek poetry and occasionally recited his own work or passages from the classics. Athanasius noticed that Eva’s admiration for his poetry and her enthusiasm for the topics of their conversations were genuine.

When Athanasius was convinced that he could trust her, he explained his plan to Eva. She would have to establish contact with the renowned historian Tacitus, supposedly by chance. This casual encounter should lead to a subsequent meeting. Eva had to seduce Tacitus, not only with her beauty but also with her knowledge of poetry, architecture, and history. She had to present herself as a worldly woman, so that he would be attracted to her both physically and intellectually. Tacitus was around sixty years old, entering the final year of his life, a fact known to Athanasius but not to Tacitus himself. Once Eva managed to infiltrate the historian’s life, she had to search for the manuscripts of his two main works: the Annales and the Historiae. She had to discreetly remove specific sections, which had not yet been copied, from those manuscripts, and Athanasius would teach her precisely which parts to take.

In the following months, Athanasius and Eva worked on preparing the plan. He taught her which works to target and how to recognize them. Then she had to learn which specific sections to remove. From the Annales a chronicle of Roman history by year, she had to remove the manuscripts covering the years 28 to 34 (roughly volumes V to X), and from the Historiae the parts that dealt with the Roman province of Judea. Those were, of course, the sections related to the figure of Jesus, but Athanasius didn’t mention that to her. In the meantime, they also devised a plan for the ‘chance’ encounter. They explored the neighborhood where Tacitus lived, inspected his house, and had Falas gather information about Tacitus’s daily routines, visitors, and any discernible patterns. It turned out that the historian did indeed follow a certain rhythm in his daily activities. Every day, consistently at 10 o’clock in the morning, before the sun reached its peak, he would take a walk to the Tiber River and back.

To motivate Eva to execute Athanasius’s assigned task flawlessly, he showed her several gold coins. He had retrieved them from his secret hiding place in the Pantheon; he had brought a substantial supply with him. When he saw her eager gaze, he gave her three coins as an advance payment and promised her many more if she successfully completed her mission to his satisfaction. The incentive seemed to be working.

In mid-July, Athanasius decided that the time was right for the first encounter between Eva and her target. She was to go to the Tiber River at ten o’clock and wait there until Tacitus arrived. She would walk slowly in his direction, seemingly lost in thought, and then, when she was right next to Tacitus, ‘accidentally’ drop a small piece of papyrus, hoping and expecting that he would gallantly pick it up for her. They would undoubtedly strike up a conversation about the papyrus, and from there, it would be a piece of cake for Eva to win over the old scholar.

As planned, on a sunny morning, Eva strolled along the river, apparently lost in thought, with the piece of papyrus in her hand. Athanasius had hidden himself behind a tree at a distance. He saw Tacitus approaching from the opposite direction. It’s all about juggling time, as always, thought Athanasius contentedly. Tacitus didn’t seem to notice the woman, but when Eva was a few steps away from him, he glanced in her direction. When she was almost beside him, she dropped the piece of papyrus, and it fluttered to the ground. Well done! Athanasius praised her silently. Everything is going according to plan. But then he paled when Tacitus didn’t stop but continued walking. What a brute! Athanasius cursed inwardly. He was about to come out from behind the tree and walk toward Eva when Tacitus suddenly stopped and turned around. Athanasius quickly hid himself again in his hiding spot. Tacitus walked back to Eva and picked up the papyrus.

The historian said something to her, but Athanasius couldn’t hear it. However, he saw Eva respond with an enchanting smile. Later, she gave Athanasius a detailed account of the brief conversation between her and the historian. Tacitus had complimented her beauty and with a slight bow, called her Tutta Bella. Eva told Athanasius that she felt a genuine blush on her cheeks (although she didn’t mention that it was not feigned). Then Tacitus examined the papyrus. ‘A love poem, may I read this?’ he asked. She had glanced at her sandals for a moment and then nodded, with a shy yet enchanting smile. Tacitus read the poem attentively:

The woman who has never beheld your gaze
And who has pledged her heart to you
Offers this heart entirely to you
Says that she never sees anything pleasing
Because it is not granted for her to behold you,
The woman who has never beheld your gaze
And who has pledged her heart to you.
But because of the goodness
That the whole world speaks of in unison about you,
You have conquered her in all virtue,
The woman who has never beheld your gaze
And who has pledged her heart to you
Offers this heart entirely to you.

“What a beautiful poem,” Tacitus had said. “Your fiancé must be a truly remarkable man.”

Eva had hesitated for a moment but then said, “I have never met him, and I will never meet him. He is too far away from me.” She conjured a sorrowful expression.

Her gaze didn’t miss its effect; Tacitus was immediately captivated. “Does he live in another city, or even in another part of the world?” he curiously asked.

Eva looked at him with a resigned look and said, “No, he lives here in the city. So close, and yet so far away.”

“Who is this mysterious man who has stolen your heart, if I may ask such an impertinent question?”

“I dare not say. A woman devoted to poetry is unfortunately viewed with suspicion. I’ve already said too much…” Those irresistible eyes again.

“It’s indeed uncommon for a woman to engage in matters of men, but you can trust me. I am not hindered by narrow-minded views. I have seen the world in all its horrors, and I am genuinely curious about your story.”

Eva maintained the play of hesitation and compliance for a while, but then blurted it out with a dramatic sigh. “Well, alright, why not? I trust that you can keep a secret…”

Tacitus managed to suppress a triumphant look but assured her in the most reassuring voice he could muster that she could trust him completely. “I have never betrayed anyone’s trust,” he added.

“I am interested in art, science, and history,” Eva said, with enough shyness in her voice. “I don’t know why I have become so enamored with this man. As I said, I have never met him. It must be a twist of fate orchestrated by the gods.” She paused for a moment.

Tacitus nodded encouragingly.

Eva noticed how he restrained his impatience. “I have no idea what he looks like, but the texts I have read by him, and about him, and what I have heard about him, make me feel completely lost in him.”

Tacitus nodded again.

“It is a forbidden love, if you understand what I mean.”

“Forbidden things are given to us to play with,” Tacitus encouraged her.

“It is about the great, famous, eminent historian Tacitus,” she finally entrusted him. “You must think I’m a foolish woman now.” She pretended to make a move as if she were about to leave, but he stopped her.

“Don’t go just yet,” he said. “I would like to meet you again. I have looked at you with the eyes of love.” He gazed at her with infatuated eyes. “Have you written more of those beautiful poems? I would love to read them…”

Eva nodded. “Yes,” she said timidly.

Tacitus asked if she could provide him with copies of some of her poems. He gave her his address. “I truly hope to see you again!” he said, placing his right hand over his left chest and making a slight bow. Then he turned around and walked in the opposite direction of his usual walk.

Eva stood there, stunned, for a while. Athanasius joined her, feeling excited. “That went very well, well played!” Eva simply nodded in agreement. They walked to Athanasius’ house, and he gave her a golden coin. “You have earned this!” he said. Afterward, she left his house.

Athanasius decided to wait for a week before Eva would contact Tacitus again. The budding love needed some time to develop. Meanwhile, Falas wrote a new love poem. And so, a week after the meeting by the Tiber, Falas stood at Tacitus’ front door, holding a scroll of papyrus. A servant opened the door, and Falas handed him the scroll, with compliments from the young woman named Eva. The servant took the scroll inside and asked Falas to wait for a possible response from his master. Shortly after, Tacitus himself appeared at the front door, holding another scroll which he gave to Falas, instructing him to personally deliver it to her and ask if she would like to join him for lunch at his house the next day around noon. “Tell her that I wish to discuss an urgent matter with her, a matter concerning her, and that besides being of great importance, it also involves joyous news.” Tacitus had Falas repeat the message, gave him some coins, and watched him until he was out of sight.

Living a joyful life,
I have pledged my heart to love,
To the best man in my life,
And it is no folly of mine;
No one can blame me for this.
Living a joyful life,
I have pledged my heart to love.
While youth demands it of me,
Love commands it so.
Therefore, I cannot resist.
Living a joyful life,
I have pledged my heart to love,
To the best man in my life.

Falas handed the parchment he received from Tacitus to Athanasius, who read it with a smirk on his face, then treated himself to a cup of wine to celebrate the preliminary success of his venture. He had arranged for Eva to meet him early in the evening to discuss the continuation of their mission. First, he had her read the poem dedicated to her by Tacitus, and there was no doubt that she was moved by the words.

Lady, so beautifully radiant, nothing brings me joy,
Brings me peace or relief from sorrow,
Except you, to whom I am faithful.
Despite your ever-growing beauty each day,
Which I cannot behold nor touch,
Lady, so beautifully radiant, nothing brings me joy,
Brings me peace or relief from sorrow.
Your sweetness, which soothes my suffering
And lovingly heals,
Truly remains too far away.
Lady, so beautifully radiant, nothing brings me joy,
Brings me peace or relief from sorrow,
Except you, to whom I am faithful.

“The poem seems to please you,” Athanasius remarked.

“And why shouldn’t it please me?” Eva responded, with a slightly defensive undertone that Athanasius didn’t miss. “It’s a beautiful poem, written by a wise and erudite man.”

“Indeed,” Athanasius replied, “as long as you remain faithful to our mission.”

Eva ignored his comment and asked what she should do now, whether to accept the invitation or keep him hanging for longer. Athanasius had said that Tacitus needed to be kept hanging for a while longer, to make him realize that it was not him but Eva who held the reins.

“But then I have to decline his invitation for tomorrow!” Eva worriedly questioned, “Is that wise?”

Athanasius explained that it was indeed wise. Tacitus would do anything to have her in his house. His dependence on her was a condition for the mission to succeed; Tacitus had to be willing to do anything to have her in his bed. Only if he were her slave did she stand a chance of accessing the manuscripts, and those manuscripts were crucial!

“Why are those manuscripts so important?” Eva asked, “What do they contain that the world must not know?”

“That, my dear, is none of your concern. You are in my service to do as I ask, and I pay you more for that than you will ever earn with your work,” Athanasius stated firmly, intending to put Eva in her place. He continued, “Falas is writing a new poem that he will deliver to him tomorrow, immersed in the bittersweet scent of heart-wrenching apologies.”

Eva shook her head and said, “Tacitus must have realized by now that I have discovered his true identity. I know his address; it’s a piece of cake.”

“You’re right about that, but it’s only to our advantage. Falas can hint to Tacitus that your discovery has made you even more hesitant to accept the invitation. Your admiration and love for the man increase your reservations!”

“But if Falas brings it up, it might give Tacitus the idea that I already knew,” Eva objected.
Athanasius and Eva weighed the different possibilities and finally concluded that Falas wouldn’t bring it up directly, but he would subtly hint to Tacitus that Eva had found out who he was and that it had unsettled her. They could trust Falas to handle this trickery with confidence. Once again, Falas had surpassed himself with a love poem in Eva’s name:

She, who I am day and night,
Desires to see you,
To save your heart from pain,
She, who is attracted to nothing else,
Has no other longing.
She, who I am day and night,
Desires to see you,
To witness your suffering,
Which, according to her ability,
She can heal as a healer.
She, who I am day and night,
Desires to see you,
To save your heart from pain.

Falas had knocked on Tacitus’ door again, and the servant who answered asked him to wait in the hallway as his master would see him shortly. Falas held the poem in his hands, intending to personally hand it over to Tacitus. When Tacitus entered the hallway, Falas noticed how his gaze immediately fell upon the papyrus scroll, and he sensed his impatience, but also his disappointment upon seeing Eva’s servant instead of Eva herself.

“I was expecting your mistress, has something come up?” Tacitus asked with concern.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Falas replied, raising his hands in a gesture of regret, “but she has sent me with a new poem, which, she deeply hopes, will please you enough to forgive her.”

“Has she fallen ill or become unwell?” Tacitus asked anxiously.

“No, no… she is healthy and well,” Falas answered, hesitating just enough to pique Tacitus’ curiosity.

“Then what made her cancel my invitation?” There was a hint of displeasure in his voice. Falas looked down at the historian’s sandals, seemingly contemplating an appropriate response.

“Here is the poem she wrote for you,” he finally said. Tacitus accepted the scroll and began reading. Falas saw the delight on his face, the fire reignited. He seemed about to say something but remained silent, hoping that Tacitus would prompt him.

“Is there any further message?” Tacitus looked at him expectantly.

“I think…” Falas glanced around anxiously.

“Yes?”

“May I speak freely and share an observation with you?” he blurted out suddenly.

“Speak freely, man!”

“My mistress is good to me, I would never betray her trust. My observation serves her interests above all. I am concerned about her and only want what’s best for her.” Falas looked at the historian for a moment.

“I understand, but do continue, man!”

“I know what the subject of her poems is. Sometimes she confides her pains and desires to me, as I am blessed with a certain talent for being a listening ear.” Tacitus impatiently gestured for him to get to the point. “After I left here yesterday, I inquired about who you are—not out of curiosity, but solely in the interest of my mistress.”

“Aha,” sighed the old historian, “and when you revealed this to her, she was so startled that she became too bashful to meet me.” He reread the poem, but now with a different perspective. He stared into space for a full minute, or so it seemed with his eyes closed, and then apparently made a decision.

“Wait for me here,” he said, “I will write her a letter that you must deliver to her immediately.” He hurried out of the hallway and was gone for at least an hour. Upon returning to the hallway, he handed Falas a piece of parchment sealed with wax. “This is my response to her,” Tacitus said. “You have done very well in confiding in me. As you said, in the interest of your mistress. And now, do not hesitate, go quickly and deliver my letter to her!”

After Falas returned to his master and reported the encounter with Tacitus, Athanasius read the historian’s letter to Eva. Athanasius was pleased; everything seemed to be unfolding according to plan. He asked Falas to invite Eva for dinner so they could discuss the next steps of the mission.

Athanasius had Falas prepare and serve the meal and requested that he join them at the table. He wanted to observe the relationship between Eva and Falas, concerned that Falas might become too familiar with her.

After Athanasius briefed Eva on all the events, he handed her the letter, which she read attentively.

I understood from your servant that you have discovered my identity. Well, may the gods be with us. I have tried to gather information about your whereabouts through various contacts, but no one could tell me, which has caused me great distressing thoughts. How can there be joy for me when I cannot see you, my lovely, calm, and virtuous lady? After learning from your servant that you couldn’t accept my invitation, I have lost all will and desire to work. At first, I feared that you wanted to forget me, but I feel deeply connected to you with all my heart and soul, and I could never love or trust another woman. That is why I write this letter in despair, my sweet bosom friend. I hope to understand why you don’t want to have contact with me, except through your servant. I pray to the gods that you will let me know, and I will not write to you again unless you convince me otherwise. Adios, my bittersweet heart, may the gods grant you joy, peace, prosperity, honor, and good health, to the same extent that my heart longs for you.

Your faithful friend, 

—Tacitus

Athanasius instructed Falas to write a response, also in the form of a letter. They discussed the content of the response. Eva believed that it was time to meet Tacitus again and grew impatient. Athanasius wondered if this desire stemmed from wanting to be done with this matter, collect her money, and move on with her life, or — and this thought troubled him — if it arose from a growing affection for the historian.

Falas believed that Eva should further fan the flames first. Athanasius thought to himself that this was the poet speaking, but he agreed with him. The more attached Tacitus became, the more dependent he would be, Athanasius thought. From Falas’ account of his encounter with the historian, Athanasius gathered that the man was completely losing himself to Eva. Indeed, the fire needed to be stoked further. It wasn’t difficult to convince Eva of this, and she agreed with the essence of the new letter. Falas suggested including a new poem as well, as compensation for the sometimes harsh words in the letter. ‘Push and pull,’ he said, ‘teasing is essential in the game of love!’ Athanasius had little understanding of that, but he trusted the poet in this matter. Falas proposed a Lamento, in which Eva’s complaint and her passion for Tacitus would be expressed. He felt that a letter alone might be perceived as too cold. As he gently stroked her hair, Athanasius furrowed his brows, but before he could say anything, Eva beat him to it: ‘Not too familiar, slave!’ Her accompanying wink didn’t reassure Athanasius. He quickly decided to redirect the conversation back to the two texts.

“The letter is excellent,” he said, “and indeed, a lament seems like a valuable addition. We mustn’t offend Tacitus.”

After everyone agreed to it, Eva went home. The next morning, Falas set to work. It took him the entire morning to write the letter and the lament. The letter read as follows:

My dearest friend, my beloved, and my sweet treasure, I have received your letter. And know how astonished I am by the little trust you have in me, thinking that when I have to decline an invitation, it is because I want to forget you. This grievously offends me. I would still like to believe that your heart is virtuous and strong enough to not forget me. And anyone blessed with virtue and righteousness should be able to recognize it in another. As for your question regarding why I contacted you through my servant, threatening not to write to you until I see you in person, I had no other choice. I felt lost in my emotions, in my essence, and I needed time to determine my new position. I did it for no other reason in the world. I beg you, with all the strength I possess, and with the same affection you feel for my heart and body, never have this distrust towards me again, for I cannot be angrier than when I am accused of something I never intended. And by Jupiter, I wished that you tortured yourself even more after reading your letter more than ten times, unable to cease my anger and tears. Since I met you, I have never had any intention of not seeing you again, and I will not have that intention for my entire life. I think of you every hour of the day.

I am sending you this letter through my servant, whom I trust completely. My dearest treasure, I pray to the gods that they reward you with honor and joy in everything your heart desires.

Your faithful lover,

—Eva

Lamento della Dame
Beloved friend, how have I wounded you?
From the heart, in action and thought I have served you
Without shame,
Loving you with a heart so exemplary
That all else seems false pretense
When I behold you, perfected by God In every virtue.
And how you make my color fade,
Capturing my heart in terrible pain,
In suffering, sorrow, and lamentation
Without committing any fault,
See, my love, how I weep.
Hear my sighs, hear my lament.
Witness the pain, behold the suffering,
That takes possession of my heart.

Eva had returned to Athanasius’ apartment at the end of the morning. She read the letter and the lament and wondered with concern if the lament was too much of a repetition of the complaint in the letter. Falas had explained to her that the poetic form in which the complaint was expressed made a significant difference; the poem, regardless of its content, was itself a sign of love and affection. ‘Trust me,’ he had said, ‘this is my craft.’ As Athanasius listened to all of this, an alarm bell suddenly rang in his mind. He doesn’t write this as a craftsman; he writes these poems for her! He would need to keep a close eye on his servant’s feelings for his hired prostitute. And her feelings, as well, regarding both men. Love, and even lust, had their own rules.

Athanasius decided to wait a day before delivering both texts. Afterwards, he expected the historian to be completely captivated by her. He suggested arranging an outdoor meeting first, somewhere in a leafy spot along the Tiber, not too far from Tacitus’ usual walking route. When delivering the mail, Falas had to discuss this with Tacitus, of course, with tact. It would be best if he framed it in a way that the historian himself would come up with the idea. Athanasius trusted that Falas would handle this task well.
The next morning, just before ten o’clock, right before Tacitus would embark on his usual walk, Falas stood at his front door. After knocking, the historian himself opened it, ready for his walk.

“Oh,” said Falas feigning surprise, “you’re about to leave. I’ve just arrived in time to give you a letter and a poem from my mistress. I almost missed you.”

Tacitus looked pleasantly surprised and delighted as he received the texts. “Please, would you mind waiting,” he asked Falas, surprising him with his almost docile tone, “I will read the texts immediately and would like to send a message back to your mistress.” Falas was invited into the hallway, and the historian disappeared into his private chambers for at least half an hour before reappearing. He could see that Tacitus was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. On one hand, he felt relieved and even elated that his love had reached out to him, but on the other hand, he sensed disappointment or concern on Tacitus’ face.

“I must speak to her as soon as possible,” the historian said. “This written contact is driving me to despair!”

Falas immediately sensed the opportunity to strike while the iron was hot. “May I take the liberty of sharing some advice with you?” he asked discreetly.

“Speak freely,” Tacitus urged him.

“The meeting where you coincidentally encountered each other took place by the river. Perhaps it would be a good idea to meet there again or in its vicinity, to evoke the tender feelings of that encounter that my mistress cherished so much.”

“That is an excellent idea,” Tacitus said. “I can immediately think of a lovely, enchanting spot near the river, under a group of cherry trees. Perhaps you could accompany me, and I will show you the place I have in mind.”

Shortly after, they stood beneath the designated trees, and Falas agreed with the historian that it was a truly special place. He complimented Tacitus on his good taste and reassured him that Eva would certainly be pleased to meet here. He conjured a smile that seemed to say, ‘Leave it to me,’ a smile that Tacitus clearly noticed.

“Tell your mistress that tomorrow at 11 o’clock, I will be waiting for her here, under these trees,” Tacitus said. “Also, tell her that I hold nothing against her, that I am a foolish, impatient man, with only my old age as an excuse, as it deprives me of the necessary patience.”

The following morning, just after eleven o’clock, Eva and Falas walked along the Tiber River towards the group of cherry trees. Tacitus paced impatiently and anxiously between the trees. Falas slowed his pace and fell a few steps behind Eva, giving her and Tacitus a moment alone. The historian looked at her with delight, took her hand, and caressed it with a tender gesture. Eva put on her shy expression, which didn’t go unnoticed by Tacitus. He seemed unaware of Falas’s presence and began reciting a poem he had evidently prepared:

Finally, hand in hand we sat,
But I was besieged by a cruel visitor,
In desire, who refused to leave
But instead chose to break my heart.
Face to face,
I beheld Her sweet enchanting body,
Her lovely gaze, her smiling little mouth,
Redder than any cherry,
Which seemed to say,
“Kiss me!

Eva blushed from ear to ear. “How beautiful!” she exclaimed.

“Indeed, very beautiful!” Tacitus repeated, unabashedly admiring her.

“You flatter me,” Eva said with her most enchanting smile.

“We seem to flatter each other…” Tacitus seemed conflicted. He was clearly captivated by her beauty and charms, not only besieged by Desire but also by Timidity and Fear.

“Let us recline here under the tree on the grass,” Eva suggested. Falas hurried over, laid a blanket on the ground, and supported Eva as she settled onto it. Tacitus sat beside her. Falas retrieved bread, grapes, and wine from the bag slung over his shoulder. Then he moved a suitable distance away.
The enamored couple chatted for a while. Tacitus clearly didn’t know how to handle the proximity of the enchanting girl who stirred his senses. He occasionally touched her, but only for a moment. In response, she occasionally placed her hand on his arm when speaking something personal. Once, she even placed her hand on his thigh, causing an ecstatic grin to spread across his face. Falas noticed how he eyed her mouth greedily, as if he wanted to devour her, but the predator within him had not fully awakened yet. Eva stretched her legs and reclined halfway, propping herself up on her elbows. She half-closed her eyes and let her head hang back, allowing the sunlight filtering through the leaves to warm her face. Tacitus looked at her helplessly, deeply in love.

Falas decided to give him a little push. He walked over to the infatuated couple, winked at Eva unnoticed, and plucked a green leaf from the cherry tree they sat beneath. “Allow me, sir,” he whispered softly to the historian. “Sometimes nature needs a helping hand.” He glanced at Tacitus with a cheerful, mischievous smile. Falas carefully placed the leaf on Eva’s lips and whispered to the historian, “Kiss this leaf…”

Tacitus lost control of himself, leaning forward and hesitating briefly before his desire ultimately takes over, and his lips suddenly move towards the leaf.

Falas quickly removed the leaf, and the historian’s mouth tasted the soft, red lips of the young woman he desired so much. He felt his lips melding with hers, bewildered by their tenderness, tears of confusion and happiness overwhelmed him. Meanwhile, Falas had taken a suitable distance from the couple. Eva opened her eyes and sent the historian a seductive smile. He brushed his hand gently against her cheek and once again was moved by the softness of a woman’s body. How could he have forgotten the existence of all these delights?

Falas discreetly signaled Eva, who, after caressing Tacitus’s head, stood up with a sprightly gesture. She reached out her hand and helped him up. “I must return home,” she said, “but I promise to meet you again soon!” Another irresistible smile. She plucked a cherry from the tree and gracefully placed it in his mouth. He choked on it, prompting Falas to rush over and pat his back.

“I clearly need to relearn how to taste cherries,” Tacitus said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Falas noticed Eva melting at his words.

Afterwards, they each wnet their separate ways. Tacitus walks home, floating on cloud nine, while Falas accompanied Eva to her house. He informed her that Athanasius has invited her to dinner in the evening. Then he reported to Athanasius, without delving too much into details. But the priest was not easily fooled; his intuition was sharp.

During the meal, Athanasius bombarded them with questions, wanting to know every detail. Eva refused to provide precise and detailed answers, stating that it is part of the secrecy of her work. “Just as one does not ask a cook or a doctor for the ingredients of their recipe, or an engineer for the exact calculations of their construction. As long as the food tastes good, the medicine heals, and the structure doesn’t collapse.”

“I am not a customer consuming your goods; I am the client, and I want to know every ingredient and calculation in detail. I am the cook, the doctor, and the engineer of this endeavor.” Athanasius’s voice brooked no opposition.

Eva raised her hands in a gesture of concession. “Very well, what exactly do you want to know, Mr. Cook-Doctor-Engineer?”

Athanasius looked at her for a moment with an inscrutable gaze, but she remained unfazed. He realized that working with people was an entirely different matter than working with machines and devices. Machines and devices do what they are designed to do, provided they are well-constructed, and they are completely predictable. People, no matter how well instructed, no matter how many times their actions are discussed and all possibilities are considered, always remain unpredictable in their outcomes. You can instruct people but not construct them, he thought regretfully. In the end, he didn’t learn much more from the more detailed account given by Eva and Falas. Their emotional lives would remain an unknown quantity.

At the end of the summer, Tacitus and Eva had grown so close that she could discuss everything with him — his work, background, motivations, and techniques. Everything was open for discussion. The historian was not surprised when she asked if she could see his manuscripts. She was particularly interested in his two most important works, the Annals and the Histories. He was delighted by her request, of course she could see them. There was just a small problem: he didn’t have the manuscripts here, but in his winter residence, his villa in the mountains north of Rome, near the city of Perugia. He primarily worked in the autumn, winter, and early spring, and the manuscripts were safely stored in his villa to protect them from fire or theft. Tacitus suggested that Eva could travel with him to his mountain villa in the autumn. It was a pleasant place to stay, and he would greatly appreciate her company. Eva told him that she found it an enticing offer but that she had some matters to attend to in Rome, so she needed to figure out how to handle them. She didn’t go into details, and he didn’t inquire further.
Athanasius was dismayed when Eva told him about the manuscripts. He had not anticipated this setback. It would likely be much more difficult to steal the texts from there, and he would also have to be in the vicinity, which could attract attention. He assumed that Falas could accompany her on the journey, which was at least something.

However, he didn’t trust his two accomplices enough to leave the theft of the manuscripts solely to them. He had to stay close to them. He decided to explore the area surrounding Tacitus’s villa and then devise a plan. He instructed Eva to inform Tacitus that she would come to his winter residence after she had concluded her current affairs. It was likely that she wouldn’t be able to join him until the new year. After that, he left with Falas for Perugia, rented an apartment there, and together they surveyed the surroundings of the winter residence. The villa was situated on a mountainside, surrounded by a fairly large piece of land. Approaching the villa unnoticed would be challenging.

After about a month in Perugia, Athanasius had gathered enough information about the activities surrounding the villa. Two weeks later, Tacitus arrived. Athanasius noted that the historian maintained his ritual of a daily morning walk even here. Whether this would be useful for his plan remained unclear.
Back in Rome, Athanasius summoned his courtesan once again. The plan he devised was as follows: Eva would travel to Perugia in the month of January and then proceed to Tacitus’s villa. On a carefully planned day, she would discreetly retrieve the manuscripts and hand them over to Falas, after seducing Tacitus into a passionate and intense night in his bed, allowing Falas to hand over the manuscripts to Athanasius undisturbed. Falas would then return to the guest quarters where Eva and her servant were staying.

Once Tacitus had finally succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep after the erotic encounters with Eva, she and Falas would meticulously search Tacitus’s study to ensure he wouldn’t notice the theft. Athanasius would arrange for Eva to receive an urgent message two days after the theft, requiring her immediate return to Rome — a sick father, mother, or brother would suffice as a reason. Athanasius would take care of transportation. When Eva asked what she should do if Tacitus discovered the manuscripts missing within those two days, Athanasius simply replied that she should use all her feminine techniques to distract him to the point where he wouldn’t even remember having written them. Eva stuck out her tongue; Falas grinned. Athanasius calculated that he would be back in Rome by the end of February or early March, allowing him ample time until April 21st, when he absolutely had to be back in his workspace at the Pantheon.

The plan looked promising, and Athanasius was convinced it would work. He longed to conclude this phase of his project, which was even grander and more awe-inspiring. He yearned for home.
In the meantime, Eva had started a correspondence with Tacitus, unbeknownst to Athanasius. She urged Falas not to disclose this information to their employer. Falas weighed his options. For now, he kept his promise to keep Athanasius in the dark, but only because he hoped for an uninhibited night with Eva. He considered her promise to be his reward.

Eva immersed herself in Falas’s writing style. She wanted to compose the texts herself, including the poems. She understood all too well that his promise not to disclose her correspondence to Athanasius was primarily driven by his erotic expectations. She would prolong those expectations for as long as possible, but she would never succumb to them.

At the end of October, Tacitus sent his first letter, a poem:

Leaving you without a heart, in pain I depart,
Without joy until we meet again,
Forced to separate my heart from yours.
Leaving you without a heart, in pain I depart,
Without knowing where to go,
Tormented and tearful, I am filled.
Leaving you without a heart, in pain I depart,
Without joy until we meet again.

Eva responded to the poem the following day with one of her own:

Without my heart, you shall not depart,
You take your beloved heart with you,
Wherever you may go.
Without my heart, you shall not depart,
In the certainty of your care,
While yours shall be my companion.
Without my heart, you shall not depart,
You take your beloved heart with you.

They continued to exchange letters and occasional poems. Eva noticed that she missed Tacitus; she longed to see him again. Slowly, she began to be consumed by feelings of doubt about her mission. She felt how Athanasius probed her emotions whenever she visited him. Falas still kept his promise, but his advances became more direct. She was professional enough to play along with his game, but her feelings for Tacitus made it an increasingly difficult trial.

The day finally came when Athanasius gave her the assignment to travel to Perugia. She had to tap into all her theatrical talents to conceal her feelings of happiness and delight. She noticed Athanasius assessing her, but he made no further allusions. Thus, she set off with Falas, and the journey would take several days. Along the way, they would stay at inns a few times. The last time, they discovered that only one room was available, and she would be forced to share the bed with Falas. She dreaded the thought. Athanasius’ slave had become increasingly touchy during the journey — not in a coarse manner, always with affectionate or teasing gestures, but he did touch her against her will. She didn’t want to reject him outright, so she allowed it, but spending a night with him in bed was not an appealing prospect.

Once they were in bed, she placed a large bag and her belongings between them as a sort of defensive barrier. She turned her back to him and pretended to sleep, although she couldn’t get a wink. He had demonstratively tossed and turned, sighing and complaining about all the luggage, claiming he didn’t have enough space to sleep comfortably. When this didn’t work, he began to flatter her. He whispered sweet words in her ear, caressed her hair, and then his face suddenly appeared close to her cheeks, and she smelled the wine he had consumed. That was the breaking point for her. She jumped up and delivered a hard slap to his face. “Stay away from me!” she shouted.

Falas recoiled, moved aside, and angrily exclaimed, “Filthy whore! You toyed with me like a cat with a mouse. Don’t think your secret correspondence will remain hidden from my master.”

“Whatever your promises are worth, it’s up to you to decide,” she replied angrily. “But keep your hands to yourself.”

It was far from a restful night’s sleep. The next day, they entered Perugia in silence, wearing stern expressions. Upon arriving at Tacitus’ villa, however, she felt herself calm down again. Finally, in a safe haven, she thought.

Tacitus sensed some tension between Eva and her servant and asked her if she had a good and pleasant journey. She replied that she wanted to freshen up first and then give him a detailed account of the trip and their time in Rome; she was very tired. The historian walked back to his study with mixed feelings. Doubt overwhelmed him. Had she changed her mind about their relationship? Had her feelings for him diminished? But then why had she traveled all this way? Women are mysterious creatures, he thought, capricious like the weather in the mountains and a cat in the sun. He immediately regretted his fear and doubt-driven thoughts and felt ashamed of his mistrust towards his beloved Tutta Bella.

Eva had retreated to the bathing area, taking a refreshing bath and pondering how to handle Falas. It wouldn’t be good if Tacitus noticed the tension between her and Falas, assuming he hadn’t already sensed it. He had appeared concerned.

Suddenly, an idea struck her, and a determined smile formed on her lips. She went through each aspect of the plan, considering it from all angles. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became of its cunning and effectiveness. It would solve all her problems in one comprehensive action. She felt rejuvenated as she stepped out of the bath and dressed herself, enveloping her irresistible allure in the most seductive garment she had brought with her.

As she entered her sleeping quarters and saw Falas sitting sullenly on a bench in their shared dining area, she ignored him. He could figure out how to pass the time on his own; he was no longer of importance to her.

Tacitus stood rooted to the spot for a moment when Eva entered the room where they would have their meal. Her beauty was, quite literally, overwhelming. His mouth fell open, and his feelings of doubt, gloom, and self-hatred vanished in an instant. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Then he approached her, enveloping her in his arms, and they stood silently for a long time, reveling in each other’s presence. “My Tutta Bella,” was all he could utter. “My Tutta Bella.” Suddenly, Eva broke free from the embrace, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him deeply on the lips. He felt himself dissolve in her lips, briefly checking if he hadn’t dissolved into a hot stream of water and washed away, but her laughter brought him back to his senses.

“You sensed some tension when I arrived here,” Eva said as they began their meal, having long abandoned formalities in their speech.

Tacitus nodded. “Yes, it troubled me. I was once again overwhelmed by doubt. I am deeply ashamed!” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“Oh, you fool!” Eva exclaimed. “You should know better by now!” She stuck her tongue out at him, causing him to melt on the spot. “But,” her tone turned serious, “there is indeed something we need to discuss. A troubling matter that worries me and has left me confused.”
Tacitus immediately turned icy again. “Tell me,” he said stiffly.

Eva had seen his expression darken and understood that she had to approach her story with caution. “It concerns Falas, my servant,” she began. “I suspect that when we arrived here, you could sense a certain tension between us.” He nodded but remained silent. “That’s because I have discovered something,” she continued. “He has another master, a man unknown to me. I stumbled upon it by chance as I was walking through the city. Suddenly, I saw the two of them together on a terrace of a tavern, drinking beer and engaged in a lively conversation. They didn’t see me. I couldn’t understand what they were discussing, but it seemed to be of great importance. I found it extremely peculiar.” She paused and looked at the historian with a concerned expression.

“Couldn’t it have been a coincidental encounter between the two?” Tacitus speculated aloud.

“Oh no, definitely not. Listen to the rest of my story,” Eva took a sip of wine and continued her account.

“When he returned to my house, he didn’t mention a word about his meeting. Naturally, I didn’t ask him about it.”

“Why not?”

“I sensed that something strange was going on. I decided to investigate it first. I noticed that on certain days, always around the same time, he would leave the city. He said he had an errand to run. The next time he announced it, I secretly followed him. It turned out he met the same man again, and they were engaged in a heated conversation. I followed him several times, and each time, he met that same man.”

“That is indeed peculiar,” Tacitus said, sounding concerned. “But couldn’t it be a family member, and they were discussing personal matters?”

“That’s what I initially thought.” Eva looked at him with innocent eyes, trying to appear as innocent as possible. “You don’t immediately think of the worst in a person. You always look for plausible explanations first. It’s only when too many things seem strange, inexplicable, and when you eventually stumble upon inconsistencies, that you start considering alternative explanations. Humans are so afraid of evil that they want to keep it as far away as possible.”

“That’s a astute observation,” Tacitus said. “People prefer a familiar and safe illusion over the harsh and intolerable truth.” He broke off a piece of roasted dove. “But how did you discover that something was indeed amiss?”

Eva looked at him somewhat guiltily and said, “I snooped around in his belongings when he was off to one of his secret meetings. I found a set of directions to your address, with your name on it. And it was clearly not his handwriting, which I know well.”

“That is indeed strange,” he said.

“But that’s not all, there was another sheet of paper, written in the same handwriting as the directions.” She paused for a moment because now she was treading on dangerous ground.

“Well, what was written on it?”

“That’s the strange part, just titles and chapter numbers. But they were titles of your works!”

“Which works? Do you remember those chapter numbers?”

“The Annales and the Historiae, I don’t remember the exact numbers.”

“That is highly peculiar!” He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

She recoiled slightly, wondering if he would consider if I had anything to do with it. She needed to come up with something quickly to dispel that thought. “Yes, very strange indeed!” She acted as if she needed to think about something. “Wait a moment, I think I mentioned those titles to him once. Falas knew, as you know, about my feelings for you, and they were related to your brilliant work. Yes, I’m sure now, I talked to him about your work because he found it strange that I had more interest in — as he put it — an ‘old man’ — sorry! — than in a young guy like him. He has a crush on me, and he didn’t exactly hide it.”

“Did he make any advances?” he asked, jealousy barely concealed in his voice.

“Not pushy, thankfully. He maintained a sufficient distance.”

Eva looked pensively into her wine goblet. “But why are they interested in those texts? What do they want with them?”

Tacitus pondered for a moment. “There could be different reasons. Perhaps both men are working on behalf of a high-ranking person who considers the texts dangerous for his career, for some reason. But that doesn’t seem very likely. The reason could also be much more prosaic: money.”

“Hold on, why money?”

“The manuscripts are famous, so they hold value. Perhaps they are simply thieves.”
Eva held the cup of wine in both hands and took slow sips. She was now approaching the most precarious part of her plan. Gathering her courage, she began, and then the tears came.
Tacitus was startled, quickly stood up, and stood beside her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “Take your time, calm down.”

Eva gave him an enchanting, grateful smile and said, “I’m fine now.” Tacitus returned to his seat on the other side of the table. “It happened on the last day of the journey, or rather, during the night.” At this point, Tacitus suddenly looked gravely concerned. “It’s not what you might think, he didn’t attempt to assault me. It’s actually much worse.” She fell silent. She tried to gauge his state of mind. His distress seemed to have lessened, but he was still worried. The truth had to come out, there was no escaping it.

“On that final night, we were forced to share the same room. That’s when it happened.”

“If he so much as laid a finger on you, I will throw him to the lions!” Tacitus’ eyes filled with fury. Eva was afraid that Falas might have heard Tacitus’ voice, as he had raised it quite loudly. However, the guest quarters were in a different wing, so she hoped for the best.

“No, as I said, it wasn’t about my body. It was about something else: those manuscripts. Falas told me I had to help him steal them. And if I refused, he would kill me. He had a knife, which he held close to my throat. I was so scared, I couldn’t say anything. Not even to you. I didn’t know what to do! If you’re angry with me now, I understand. I know I can’t stay with you anymore, I should have told you right away… I’m so afraid…” And her tears flowed again, she trembled and shook.

Tacitus rushed back to her side, wrapping his arms around her, saying, “Oh, my dear, dear, dearest Tutta Bella… There’s no way I’ll send you away. You will stay here with me, you’ll be safe here, nothing will happen to you!” He caressed her, hugged her, stroked her, and covered her with a torrent of kisses. When she had calmed down again, and they were both back at their meal, Tacitus said, “Well, it’s time for appropriate action. I will summon my guards, and we will thoroughly interrogate this scoundrel. He’s not done with me yet!”

Eva had to handle this situation smartly because she didn’t think throwing Falas to the lions was a good idea, not because she had any sympathy for him, but because Athanasius was still in the picture. He could cause a lot of trouble for her. If her role in this matter came to light, she would be doomed. She put on a pensive expression, making sure it enhanced her beauty rather than concealing it. She ran her finger thoughtfully along her cheek, let the tip of her tongue glide across her lips, and ended her pantomime with a radiant smile. “I have an idea!” she exclaimed with conviction, as if she had just discovered the law of Archimedes. “Look… we don’t know if there are other people involved, perhaps even masterminds behind these two henchmen. There might be more to this than just a simple theft; the first possibility you mentioned, of a high-ranking politician being involved, could also be true. We can’t be certain that it’s not the case.” She looked at Tacitus with a clever and seductive gaze. He melted, as usual. “That’s why I have a plan. A plan to deceive both of them, and potentially their hidden orchestrators as well.” She smiled triumphantly. Tacitus was all ears. Eva explained her plan step by step, and although Tacitus initially looked somewhat reserved, he gradually became convinced by her words.

“You’re right,” he said when she finished, “this is an excellent plan. That’s how we’ll proceed, it’s our best chance.”

In the weeks following their shared meal, not much happened. Tacitus spent a large part of the days writing in his study. Eva limited her contact with Falas to a minimum, and Falas went to Perugia every other day ‘to run errands’, as he said.

After two weeks, in late January, Falas returned from his ‘errands’ in Perugia and took Eva aside. “The time has come in two days. You must retrieve the manuscripts and place them under your bed in a bag that I will leave there.”

“That’s too soon,” Eva told him. “I need more time.” No matter how much Falas protested, Eva wouldn’t budge. “Figure it out!” she said. “I determine the timing, period!”

Falas left, dejected, and informed Athanasius the following day. The priest became irritable, but he was powerless against this woman’s whims.

In mid-February, Eva decided that the time was ripe. She instructed Falas to tell Athanasius to be ready at the villa the next day shortly after midnight. That evening, Eva stayed in Tacitus’s sleeping quarters until just after midnight. She quietly made her way through the corridors to his study, retrieved a stack of manuscripts from a secret drawer, and placed them in the bag that Falas had prepared under her bed. Then she quickly returned to Tacitus and climbed into bed with him.

Falas took the bag, silently walked outside, and handed it to Athanasius, who hurriedly left. Falas returned to his room swiftly and cautiously.

When Athanasius arrived at his apartment in Perugia that night, he quickly checked the manuscripts. All the requested texts were in the bag. Satisfied, he placed the bag under his bed, changed clothes, went to bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep after only a few minutes. The next day, he retrieved the bag and examined the manuscripts again. They were undoubtedly the fragments he had been seeking. Arius would never recover from this blow since these were the original texts, with no copies yet available. He grinned, still relishing the thought of Arius’s face when he would learn that the manuscripts had disappeared. He continued to browse through the manuscripts, and suddenly he hesitated. There was something strange, but he couldn’t understand why. He flipped through them again, back and forth, but eventually stopped and stared at the bottom of a page where a space had been left open. The text continued on the next page, but it was completely unclear why the text hadn’t simply continued in the remaining open space on the previous page. He stood up, took the pages to the window for better light, smelled the ink, compared them to other pages. He gazed out the window for a while and then walked back to his chair. Slowly, the bitter truth dawned on him — his hired courtesan had fallen for the historian and betrayed him.

These were not the original manuscripts; they were partially old copies, probably based on previous rejected versions, supplemented with new copies. This explained the open space at the bottom of that particular page. That page belonged to an old, rejected version, and the following page, with the continuation of the text, was the new copy. Tacitus had been forced to leave a part of the page empty. If one knew this, they would also notice the difference in ink color — the old ink was darker — and the new ink had a stronger scent. He sat motionless for an hour, pondering a plan. When he stood up, he knew what he had to do.

Athanasius sent a servant to Tacitus’s house to instruct Falas to come to him immediately. He gauged the servant’s mood and quickly realized that the servant harbored unfavorable feelings towards the courtesan, to say the least. When he discussed his plan with Falas, he didn’t hesitate for a moment. He was more than willing to participate and would do anything his master commanded. The three gold coins that Athanasius had offered undoubtedly played a role, but Athanasius didn’t care.

In the following days, they focused on tracking the movements of the lovebirds. They discovered that they now took a ritual morning walk together every day without exception. Athanasius had Falas follow them discreetly, and they always followed the same route. Once this was clear, Athanasius and Falas walked the same route at the end of an afternoon to study it.

One day, in the second week of March, Tacitus and Eva took their usual morning route. The walk lasted about an hour each time. The first part of the route was relatively flat, but after about twenty minutes, it gradually became steeper, although it never became too challenging. The path was well-trodden and didn’t require a walking stick. After about half an hour, they reached their favorite spot, where they would enjoy the view for a while. As they stood there arm in arm, savoring the landscape and each other’s company, two masked men suddenly appeared, each holding a razor-sharp knife. It was a brief encounter; they were both stabbed in the side and then had their throats slit. They died in each other’s arms within seconds. Falas dragged the bodies to a freshly dug pit, dumped them in, and covered them with soil and branches. It would take some time before the bodies would be discovered, Athanasius believed. Afterward, Falas hurried to the villa, grabbed the authentic manuscripts from the study, and brought them to Athanasius. They left Perugia together and traveled to Rome. Athanasius gave Falas his certificate of freedom and a generous amount of silver and gold coins. He advised him to leave Italy and find a new place far away from Rome.

On April 21st, in the morning, Athanasius went to the Pantheon. He walked with his special lantern through the secret tunnels and prepared for his journey back in the workspace. At exactly 12 o’clock, he pulled the lever in the metal cabin. He stepped out and was finally home.