Ascyltos was just starting in to answer this indictment when Trimalchio,
who was delighted with his fellow-freedman's tirade, broke in, "Cut out
the bickering and let's have things pleasant here. Let up on the young
fellow, Hermeros, he's hot-blooded, so you ought to be more reasonable.
The loser's always the winner in arguments of this kind. And as for you,
even when you were a young punk you used to go 'Co-co co-co,' like a hen
after a rooster, but you had no pep. Let's get to better business and
start the fun all over again and watch the Homerists." A troupe filed
in, immediately, and clashed spears against shields. Trimalchio sat
himself up on his cushion and intoned in Latin, from a book, while the
actors, in accordance with their conceited custom, recited their parts in
the Greek language. There came a pause, presently, and "You don't any of
you know the plot of the skit they're putting on, do you?" he asked,
"Diomedes and Ganymede were two brothers, and Helen was their sister;
Agamemnon ran away with her and palmed off a doe on Diana, in her place,
so Homer tells how the Trojans and Parentines fought among themselves.
Of course Agamemnon was victorious, and gave his daughter Iphigenia, to
Achilles, for a wife: This caused Ajax to go mad, and he'll soon make the
whole thing plain to you." The Homerists raised a shout, as soon as
Trimalchio had done speaking, and, as the whole familia stepped back, a
boiled calf with a helmet on its head was brought in on an enormous
platter. Ajax followed and rushed upon it with drawn sword, as if he
were insane, he made passes with the flat, and again with the edge, and
then, collecting the slices, he skewered them, and, much to our
astonishment, presented them to us on the point of his sword.
But we were not given long in which to admire the elegance of such
service, for all of a sudden the ceiling commenced to creak and then the
whole dining-room shook. I leaped to my feet in consternation, for fear
some rope-walker would fall down, and the rest of the company raised
their faces, wondering as much as I what new prodigy was to be announced
from on high. Then lo and behold! the ceiling panels parted and an
enormous hoop, which appeared to have been knocked off a huge cask, was
lowered from the dome above; its perimeter was hung with golden chaplets
and jars of alabaster filled with perfume. We were asked to accept these
articles as souvenirs. When my glance returned to the table, I noticed
that a dish containing cakes had been placed upon it, and in the middle
an image of Priapus, made by the baker, and he held apples of all
varieties and bunches of grapes against his breast, in the conventional
manner. We applied ourselves wholeheartedly to this dessert and our
joviality was suddenly revived by a fresh diversion, for, at the
slightest pressure, all the cakes and fruits would squirt a saffron sauce
upon us, and even spurted unpleasantly into our faces. Being convinced
that these perfumed dainties had some religious significance, we arose in
a body and shouted, "Hurrah for the Emperor, the father of his country!"
However, as we perceived that even after this act of veneration, the
others continued helping themselves, we filled our napkins with the
apples. I was especially keen on this, for I thought I could never put
enough good things into Giton's lap. Three slaves entered, in the
meantime, dressed in white tunics well tucked up, and two of them placed
Lares with amulets hanging from their necks, upon the table, while the
third carried round a bowl of wine and cried, "May the gods be
propitious!" One was called Cerdo--business--, Trimalchio informed us,
the other Lucrio--luck--and the third Felicio--profit--and, when all the
rest had kissed a true likeness of Trimalchio, we were ashamed to pass it
by.
After they had all wished each other sound minds and good health,
Trimalchio turned to Niceros. "You used to be better company at
dinner," he remarked, "and I don't know why you should be dumb today,
with never a word to say. If you wish to make me happy, tell about that
experience you had, I beg of you." Delighted at the affability of his
friend, "I hope I lose all my luck if I'm not tickled to death at the
humor I see you in," Niceros replied. "All right, let's go the limit for
a good time, though I'm afraid these scholars'll laugh at me, but I'll
tell my tale and they can go as far as they like. What t'hell do I care
who laughs? It's better to be laughed at than laughed down." These
words spake the hero, and began the following tale: "We lived in a narrow
street in the house Gavilla now owns, when I was a slave. There, by the
will of the gods, I fell in love with the wife of Terentius, the
innkeeper; you knew Melissa of Tarentum, that pretty round-checked little
wench. It was no carnal passion, so hear me, Hercules, it wasn't; I was
not in love with her physical charms. No, it was because she was such a
good sport. I never asked her for a thing and had her deny me; if she
had an as, I had half. I trusted her with everything I had and never was
done out of anything. Her husband up and died on the place, one day, so
I tried every way I could to get to her, for you know friends ought to
show up when anyone's in a pinch.
"It so happened that our master had gone to Capua to attend to some odds
and ends of business and I seized the opportunity, and persuaded a guest
of the house to accompany me as far as the fifth mile-stone. He was a
soldier, and as brave as the very devil. We set out about cock-crow, the
moon was shining as bright as midday, and came to where the tombstones
are. My man stepped aside amongst them, but I sat down, singing, and
commenced to count them up. When I looked around for my companion, he
had stripped himself and piled his clothes by the side of the road. My
heart was in my mouth, and I sat there while he pissed a ring around them
and was suddenly turned into a wolf! Now don't think I'm joking, I
wouldn't lie for any amount of money, but as I was saying, he commenced
to howl after he was turned into a wolf, and ran away into the forest.
I didn't know where I was for a minute or two, then I went to his
clothes, to pick them up, and damned if they hadn't turned to stone! Was
ever anyone nearer dead from fright than me? Then I whipped out my sword
and cut every shadow along the road to bits, till I came to the house of
my mistress. I looked like a ghost when I went in, and I nearly slipped
my wind. The sweat was pouring down my crotch, my eyes were staring, and
I could hardly be brought around. My Melissa wondered why I was out so
late. "Oh, if you'd only come sooner," she said, "you could have helped
us: a wolf broke into the folds and attacked the sheep, bleeding them
like a butcher. But he didn't get the laugh on me, even if he did get
away, for one of the slaves ran his neck through with a spear!" I
couldn't keep my eyes shut any longer when I heard that, and as soon as
it grew light, I rushed back to our Gaius' house like an innkeeper beaten
out of his bill, and when I came to the place where the clothes had been
turned into stone, there was nothing but a pool of blood! And moreover,
when I got home, my soldier was lying in bed, like an ox, and a doctor
was dressing his neck! I knew then that he was a werewolf, and after
that, I couldn't have eaten a crumb of bread with him, no, not if you had
killed me. Others can think what they please about this, but as for me,
I hope your geniuses will all get after me if I lie."
We were all dumb with astonishment, when "I take your story for granted,"
said Trimalchio, "and if you'll believe me, my hair stood on end, and
all the more, because I know that Niceros never talks nonsense: he's
always level-headed, not a bit gossipy. And now I'll tell you a
hair-raiser myself, though I'm like a jackass on a slippery pavement compared
to him. When I was a long-haired boy, for I lived a Chian life from my
youth up, my master's minion died. He was a jewel, so hear me Hercules,
he was, perfect in every facet. While his sorrow-stricken mother was
bewailing his loss, and the rest of us were lamenting with her, the
witches suddenly commenced to screech so loud that you would have thought
a hare was being run down by the hounds! At that time, we had a
Cappadocian slave, tall, very bold, and he had muscle too; he could hold
a mad bull in the air! He wrapped a mantle around his left arm, boldly
rushed out of doors with drawn sword, and ran a woman through the middle
about here, no harm to what I touch. We heard a scream, but as a matter
of fact, for I won't lie to you, we didn't catch sight of the witches
themselves. Our simpleton came back presently, and threw himself upon
the bed. His whole body was black and blue, as if he had been flogged
with whips, and of course the reason of that was she had touched him with
her evil hand! We shut the door and returned to our business, but when
the mother put her arms around the body of her son, it turned out that it
was only a straw bolster, no heart, no guts, nothing! Of course the
witches had swooped down upon the lad and put the straw changeling in his
place! Believe me or not, suit yourselves, but I say that there are
women that know too much, and night-hags, too, and they turn everything
upside down! And as for the long-haired booby, he never got back his own
natural color and he died, raving mad, a few days later."
Though we wondered greatly, we believed none the less implicitly and,
kissing the table, we besought the night-hags to attend to their own
affairs while we were returning home from dinner. As far as I was
concerned, the lamps already seemed to burn double and the whole
dining-room was going round, when "See here, Plocamus," Trimalchio spoke
up, "haven't you anything to tell us? You haven't entertained us at all,
have you? And you used to be fine company, always ready to oblige with a
recitation or a song. The gods bless us, how the green figs have
fallen!" "True for you," the fellow answered, "since I've got the gout
my sporting days are over; but in the good old times when I was a young
spark, I nearly sang myself into a consumption. How I used to dance!
And take my part in a farce, or hold up my end in the barber shops! Who
could hold a candle to me except, of course, the one and only Apelles?"
He then put his hand to his mouth and hissed out some foul gibberish or
other, and said afterwards that it was Greek. Trimalchio himself then
favored us with an impersonation of a man blowing a trumpet, and when he
had finished, he looked around for his minion, whom he called Croesus, a
blear-eyed slave whose teeth were very disagreeably discolored. He was
playing with a little black bitch, disgustingly fat, wrapping her up in a
leek-green scarf and teasing her with a half-loaf of bread which he had
put on the couch; and when from sheer nausea, she refused it, he crammed
it down her throat. This sight put Trimalchio in mind of his own dog and
he ordered Scylax, "the guardian of his house and home," to be brought
in. An enormous dog was immediately led in upon a chain and, obeying a
kick from the porter, it lay down beside the table. Thereupon Trimalchio
remarked, as he threw it a piece of white bread, "No one in all my house
loves me better than Scylax." Enraged at Trimalchio's praising Scylax so
warmly, the slave put the bitch down upon the floor and sicked her on to
fight. Scylax, as might have been expected from such a dog, made the
whole room ring with his hideous barking and nearly shook the life out of
the little bitch which the slave called Pearl. Nor did the uproar end in
a dog fight, a candelabrum was upset upon the table, breaking the glasses
and spattering some of the guests with hot oil. As Trimalchio did not
wish to seem concerned at the loss, he kissed the boy and ordered him to
climb upon his own back. The slave did not hesitate but, mounting his
rocking-horse, he beat Trimalchio's shoulders with his open palms,
yelling with laughter, "Buck! Buck! How many fingers do I hold up!"
When Trimalchio had, in a measure, regained his composure, which took but
a little while, he ordered that a huge vessel be filled with mixed wine,
and that drinks be served to all the slaves sitting around our feet,
adding as an afterthought, "If anyone refuses to drink, pour it on his
head: business is business, but now's the time for fun."
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