Lusts and Loves

(a historical novel)

Early drafts of the Confessions

written 385 & 389 AD


LUSTS AND LOVES

Scenes from my life till now
being a preliminary
sketch of things
done and suffered
up to my thirty-first year



These are rough notes. I will not now attempt any flowers of rhetoric: in that matter I will take a vacation from my professional life. And I am too close to these things, as yet, to draw from them any settled conclusions. Ah, my heart is torn and troubled: I do not see my way ahead at all clearly. What am I? A sinner. What is to become of me? I do not know.
My life till now has been a confused heap of loves and lusts, of graspings for truth and flounderings in error.
Ah, what am I, what am I, great God!
But, whatever I am, let me begin: with a scene from my sixteenth year.


@@ 1 @@



When I was a boy, my father used to call me Tino. Tinus would at least have been something: my people were middle-class, and I had learnt at grammar-school never to confuse word-endings. My father, being a town councillor, knew these things perfectly too. But he and his boon companions used to affect vulgarisms. To them I was Tino; and he was Tricio.
It was the spring of that year, a bright early afternoon, and we were walking along Main Street past the forum. And a councillor saw us, and called out:
"Hey there, Tricio! That's a fine lad you've got there. Has he bothered any girls yet, the way you do, you old rogue?"
Father chuckled. "I guess he soon will… It's time I taught him a few things, hey? Not the kind of things they taught him in that school last year. Something a bit more practical. Still, he's a clever lad, our Tino, and his mother says he'll go far."
"If he goes far the way you do," said the man, with a broad grin, "he'll certainly get stuck into things. Some very pretty things…"
I couldn't stop the beginnings of a blush. I have a fairish complexion, in spite of my black hair, and my blushes show.
And then we came to the Baths.
This was to be my first time there. My mother had tried to object – "He can wash with a jug of water, at home!" – but Father had overruled her. She was a baptized Christian, and very modest; in fact, prudish; but she never openly defied my father. (She had subtler methods.)
The Baths! They were magnificent, the pride of our little town. So much marble. So many rooms, with hot, cold, and tepid water. And slaves everywhere, with towels, oil-jars, and scrapers.
And a lot of naked men.
"Off with your clothes, Tino." My father laughed. "Let 'em all see what you've got."
We undressed in the first room, and progressed to the tepid one. I was not entirely unused to nakedness – I had swum in our little river when I was younger. But I was older now, and felt more than a little self-conscious, especially when these men, at close quarters, looked at me hard and appraisingly. I was glad when most of them left that bath-chamber for the next one. Now in our pool there were only Father, myself, and one other man. I knew that one: he was young, but rich and important, my father's patron. Romanianus was a ribald fellow, much like the older men.
Outside the bath stood a boy, holding an oil-flask, hesitating for a moment before he went on to the hot room. He too was naked; about thirteen or fourteen years old, dark-haired, pale-brown skinned, beautifully shaped. His face was girlish, reminding me of some statues we had about the town, of boys who had been loved by the gods.
A whim took my father. "Hey you, boy! Like a swim? You look perfectly clean. Get in with us."
The boy looked apprehensive, but he had to obey. He slipped into the bath and stood there; looking, for preference, away from the men and towards me.
"What's your name, boy?" said Father.
"Chrestus, master."
"Not Christus? You have the oil for that name…"
But I heard my father's blasphemy only through a kind of mental haze. I was looking at that sweet boy, and I began to glow. I had felt something like this before, looking at girls, or in some odd daydreams; but never before so strongly… I could not take my eyes off that girlish form in the shallow water close to me. There were strange sensations in my body.
Then my father whistled. "Hey, Tino, this really is something! Look what we have here!"
And he took hold of my penis, gently, in his hand. My penis, I saw, was standing out stiffly, pointing like a thick finger at that poor slave-boy. Who was himself now blushing.
My father gave my penis a little shake. "Terrific, Tino, you could shame old Priapus! But I hope you won't feel that way only about boys. Girls, me lad, girls! I hope you'll give me a grandson, soon. I'm afraid for that purpose Chrestus, pretty as he is, won't do."
Romanianus by now was laughing uproariously. "Ah, Patricius, don't spoil the boy's fun! Why shouldn't he enjoy Chrestus if he wants to? Let them both go to one of the private rooms. I'm sure Chrestus won't be too expensive."
I jumped out of the pool, and ran. Ran back to the first room, and started to dress. Presently my father joined me, dripping and naked.
"Tino, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's natural, it is how the human race is continued. Only, I do say, I hope you won't fall in love only with males."
"Fa-Father," I said, "I-I only liked him because he looked so much like a girl."
"Ah, now you're talking, Tino! That's my boy. You will graduate to girls, I bet, and pretty damn quick. I can see to that…"
He dressed too, and we left the baths, my father chuckling all the time. "Just wait till I tell your mother…"

* * *

If Father had expected Mother would be pleased, to hear that I had visibly reached puberty, he was disappointed. She did not even smile, and when she heard the details, she turned pale. She waited till Father had gone out that evening; then she took me by the hand into the garden-courtyard of our house, looked around to assure herself that no one else was in earshot, then said: "Oh, my sinful son, alas – and for a boy !"
I explained again. "Ma, I really like girls better…."
"How do you know?"
"I've been looking at pretty girls lately. In the streets, and so forth. I never look at boys, in that way."
"Oh, you men!" she said.
I was pleased to hear her call me a "man". "Ma, you know what Father said – it's just natural."
"Nature is no excuse – for a Christian. Our flesh is mortal, our soul immortal. We must despise the one, to save the other. Only the soul matters, in the end. This life is nothing but a kind of death, compared to the Life to Come . Who will save you from the body of this death? You know the answer to that, my son. The Lord Christ – he alone."
I was getting tired of this. "Baptism will save me, mother. But I don't have to be baptized, yet."
"You nearly were, once."
"Yes, when I was little. When I was very ill. But I'm really well now, mother – thanks to the Lord."
"The Lord keep you so, then, my son, well in both body and soul. And so may He keep your father, also."
I was glad to get away. I loved my mother deeply, she was good, and I was never, ever rude to her. But sometimes she seemed a bit of a spoil-sport. My father was not like that at all. Till recently he had been frankly a pagan; now he was officially a Christian catechumen, like myself, but I knew he was that only so as to get on in business, for nearly all the high-ups in our town had turned Christian. Father used to laugh with me sometimes:
"It's no sweat being a catechumen, Tino! You can sin as much as you like – then, when you're past it, and on your deathbed, a little water – and you zoom up to Elysium! Not a bad religion at all. I can live with that!"
He did live with it, a great deal. And when I was younger, and slept in the same room with my parents, I sometimes lay awake, when they thought me asleep – and heard him boasting to my mother of the various women he'd had, recently, during their marriage. Slave women on our farms, serfs, working-class girls… Yes, he boasted. I knew she hated that, but she was careful not to protest too much. So Pa never beat her – not like some husbands in our town.
But he was a manly man. And I liked that.

* * *

That year they were keeping me at home in Thagaste. I had done with the grammar school at nearby Madaura, the year before. Now I really wanted to go to Carthage, that huge city with its fine university; but that would be expensive, so my parents were saving up. If it was a good year, and our little farms produced well, I would go up next year.
Meanwhile, I had a lot of time on my hands. I read a bit, of course – Virgil and other Latin poets, and Cicero's orations – but I didn't have to do that all day. I knew I was brilliant, partly because my mother had long ago told me so. That gave me confidence. I was already ambitious and competitive, but because I was so clever I didn't have to overdo the studying. I read mostly in the mornings, but the afternoons and the evenings I devoted to some of the pleasures our little town offered.
I got in with a gang of boys, of my own social class. Well, some were richer, some a bit older. We used to trail around, sometimes, looking at slave-girls and working girls coming from the market, and we would whistle at them. Bavius, the leader of our gang, said he'd had several girls already. And then the rest of us started boasting about our conquests. I, too – even though, at that stage, I had never lain with a woman.
Not in reality, that is.
I have mentioned already that I had odd daydreams. Now they were becoming stronger. They were all about enslavement.
I never pictured the real possibility that I might really be enslaved. That could happen, in our part of Africa: there were kidnappers and slave-traders lurking in the countryside, though mostly they preyed on young children. I was perfectly aware that the reality would be quite, quite horrible. Yet somehow the imagination of the thing was pleasing, especially if I made the location exotic. Cilician pirates, capturing noble Greek boys and girls, and selling them in the slave-market of Delos – in the old days, before the Empire. Sometimes I imagined myself as a pretty boy, stripped naked and sold; more often, I was a wealthy buyer, and I would buy a pretty, naked, noble girl. Then I would take her to my home, and clothe her, and kiss her; or kiss her first, and then clothe her. I would be a very kind master to her… The details became vague at that point. In the end, I would restore her to her noble parents, or I would free her and marry her… But the end of the daydream was less exciting than the earlier scenes.
These imaginings gave me a sickly-sweet pleasure. The pleasure was surely sinful, but oh, so enthralling…
And then I often thought, How nice if I could really hold a naked girl in my arms!
I went with my father to the Baths again. And usually we saw Chrestus. I tried not to gaze at him, but I couldn't help it. Now I thought of him as a sweet free boy being enslaved. But quickly I corrected that fantasy to a better one – he was a girl! Now my physical reaction was the same as that other time, but, if possible, even stronger.
My father saw this, and whistled. "Tino, you really are hard up! Do you want to have him?"
I turned my back on Chrestus. "No, Father, I – I wish he was a girl."
"Ah – d'you mean you haven't had one yet? Not even once?"
Shamefacedly, I nodded.
"Ha, Tino, what you need is confidence! In sex, as in other things, that comes from practice. Well, I'll see you get it."
And he took me, one summer evening, to a farm we owned not far outside the city. There was an orchard, a vineyard, and so on, and it was worked by a family of serfs.
"I know just the woman for you, Tino, said Father. "Older than you, experienced, but quite nice-looking. Ah, when I was your age, in our pagan family, these things were arranged quite simply. Slave-girls; our own ones. It was their normal duty to go to bed with the sons of the family, and show them how to do it. That's how I became a man. But now, with all this Christianity, our house wouldn't be quite the place for you to learn…"
When we got to the farm, I was left outside the little house, while Father went in and talked to the tenants. A short while later, the woman came out. She was the farmer's wife, about twenty-five years of age. Her skin was brownish: like most of our peasants she was of native Numidian stock, and her Latin was not fluent. But she was neatly dressed, in her best white tunic, girdled to show that she was very shapely. She was barefoot, of course, like nearly all of our peasant women, but her feet looked clean. I liked that. She looked at me, smoothed her black hair away from her brown face, and smiled.
"Master Augustino…ah, 'ow good lookin'! Come with me…."
A man went ahead of us, carrying a rolled-up mattress: that was her husband. His wife led me past some pear-trees, to a garden shed. Inside, the farmer had arranged the mattress on the floor: he now grinned at me, and left.
The woman made me sit down on the mattress beside her; and then she began to caress me.
The pleasure was tremendous, especially when she lifted the hem of my tunic, and put her hand between my legs. But she quickly saw the danger of that: I was already near to bursting. So at once she whipped off her own tunic – and there I was, sitting beside a naked woman, touching her, caressing. Then she began to guide my hands to the place where it pleased her. I felt at once that this was very wicked, but the wickedness increased my pleasure.
Then very quickly she made me also naked, and showed me exactly where to put in my manly thing. She lay on her back, and I went in easily; and then she guided me with her hands and her raised knees, so that I did not come too quickly.
I did not want to come quickly. My imagination had flared up: this was like my earlier daydreams, but fiercer and more precise. Now I knew what to do with my slave: not just kiss her! And now I pretended she was a Numidian princess, and I a Roman soldier. I had enslaved her when we first conquered this province, I had stripped my princess naked, and now, against her will, I was subduing her, making her yield her body. I was enjoying my spear-won maid….
Of course, she wasn't a maid, nor unwilling, but that was how my lust functioned. And it always has functioned in that way. O God, I wish I were different, but I am not. My lust is always, always something to do with conquest: either I conquer the woman, or she conquers me. Usually it is I who conquer. Perhaps this curse descends from Adam, who only became master of his woman when he had sinned. However it is, this, I know, is my Original Sin. I will never, never be free from it – never, until I give up sex altogether, for pure, sexless love – the love of God.
Well, in the end my lust reached its evil height, and I came. I came, and came… and at last came out. We lay beside each other on that sordid mattress, our sweat mingled. She was smiling, laughing.
"Your first time, Augustino? But you ver', ver' good! Strong boyo! You gonna bonk many girl, bonk good."
And I – I was feeling revulsion. The animal act had left traces of my seed, both on my penis and on her dark thighs… I suddenly had a dreadful idea.
"You – you won't get pregnant?"
She laughed. "No way, young Massa!"
"How do you know?"
"Because I – making baby already. From my man."
I felt an extra pang. I had pushed my thing up against a growing foetus, a little brown baby. "You don't look it," I said.
"No – no' yet three moons."
And that was the end of it. Her face was not pretty, I felt no love for her, but I had had her body. I was a man.
As we left the farm, my father said: "So that went all right, did it?"
I looked away from him. "Yes, Father."
"You liked it, I hope?"
"Yes."
"You were on top?"
"Yes."
"Then I got my money's worth. That's what I arranged with her man. There is another way, but – always be on top, my boy! That is the man's place, always. You must be the master… Well, now you know how, Augustinus, my son. You won't lack confidence, screwing any woman. And – extra congratulations – you are already an adulterer."

* * *

An adulterer, at fifteen and a half! I was proud of myself. I knew it was sin, of course, foul sin, but then – my father was right – all sins would one day be washed away by baptism. Before then, I was going to Hell anyway, whether I sinned or not. Baptism would solve everything. Meanwhile, I could proceed to enjoy myself. With girls.
But it wasn't as easy as all that. My lust seemed to be increasing every month – I saw desirable girls everywhere. On the streets, in the market, sometimes even in the fields. Some were brown, some white, some a shade in between – and I wanted them all, especially the pretty white ones. But I couldn't just grab at them. I was not like Bavius, who sometimes did, so long as the girl was low-class. And I was fastidious: I didn't fancy a girl unless she was clean – which cut out many slave women.
And the idea of forcing a girl, in reality, quite horrified me. Spear-winning was all right for fantasies, but for real life – no. Girls were, after all, human beings, my fellow-creatures: my mother had taught me from quite young to be kind to animals, to slaves, and the poor. So if we were to sin together, the girl must be willing, too. As to that – I recalled with shame that my father had paid that woman to do it. I would much prefer if a girl would do it with me for love. Free, and liking me at least a little.
A confusion of feelings. My father noticed some of that, and laughed. He told me to be bolder, less squeamish. And he began to drop hints about my "prowess," at the family table.
Our family then consisted of: my parents, my brother Navigius (aged eight), two very young sisters – and the house-slaves. There were a cook, a gardener, and an old janitor, who didn't matter; and my not-so-old nurse Lucia, who did; plus her daughter Lucilla, a child of ten. Apart from the gardener and the janitor, everyone heard what my father was saying. Lucilla was innocent; my brother was a dull boy; and my sisters were very small. I don't think any of these understood my father's insinuations. But my nurse and my mother did.
My nurse Lucia had fed me at her own breasts. She was a year or two older than my mother, olive-skinned, dark-haired – and very kind, easier on me than my mother. It was she who caught up with me first, in our courtyard, after one of those meals.
"Oh my dear boy, Master Tinus – just be nice to your girls, that's all, that's the thing that matters. And I know you will be, you're not like some… I had a man who beat me – but you were too young to know about that. Tinus, don't beat your women, not unless they are really naughty, and deserve it."
I kissed her on the cheek. "Of course I won't, Nurse! I hate things like that."
"My lovely boy. You're always so kind…"
My mother was a different proposition. The next morning, when I was in my room, sitting over my Virgil, she came quietly in, and looked at me. It was an uncomfortable moment, for I soon saw what she was on about.
"Son, son, I implore you! I know you are growing up. And I know what a man's nature is. But resist it, Augustinus, my noble one! Resist the suggestions of Satan. Do not commit…fornication." (She had trouble bringing out that word.) "And above all, never defile another man's wife! Adultery is the worst – or nearly the worst – of all those sins."
I said, rather coldly, that I would take her advice. But all the time I was thinking: Just like a woman! They're always trying to stop you being manly – well, most of them are. And my mother is one of these cold ones – no sex feeling at all. Her marriage was arranged – just as well, otherwise I wouldn't be here…
That gave me another thought. "If you're so concerned for my purity, Mother, why don't you find out a wife for me? A girl of good family, with some money… Well, not right away, but – next year, or so?"
"Next year you are going to be a student," she said coldly, "at a great university, and if you use your time well, there are no heights, I think, that you could not reach. You may become a famous lawyer – or an orator – or, even, a great bishop."
That made me laugh. "Me, a bishop?"
"Why not? Augustinus, we live under a good emperor, a Christian, and one who rewards merit, even in men from humble beginnings; and yours are not so humble. One day you will be baptized – and then you may be rich, both as this world considers riches – and the next. I want you to study hard, these next few years. Learning will help you even in holy things: the sacred scriptures, of which I, being a woman, know so little, only what our bishop teaches me in church. Learning, my boy! You are a genius, there are no heights you cannot attain, and if you do that, you will raise our whole family with you, your brother, your cousins… But you must work hard, without distractions. And a wife – when you are only sixteen years old – that would be a terrible distraction. Augustinus, you must not marry yet. One day, perhaps, if necessary… And even then, holy Paul says that it is better not to marry at all – to give up the flesh for the sake of the spirit."
"I wonder what he got up to, then," I muttered.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing, never mind. Well, all right, I won't marry. Actually, I don't like the idea of settling down just yet."
After she had gone, I felt a certain relief. Marry? They would probably find for me some cold girl, wealthy but not pretty, so that doing it with her would be no fun at all. Far better to be free, to choose my own women…
But in the mean time, I wasn't getting any women. I wasn't seducing any servant-girls or market-women – and of course ladies were out of the question. They were too well guarded; and even if some councillor's wife fancied me, a spot of adultery with her would be horribly dangerous. It might ruin my career; if caught in the act, it might even lose me my life! I had no stomach for adventures of that sort. Indeed, I was not naturally aggressive in approaching women.
There must be some way; but what? I blushed at the idea of asking my father again: that would be an admission of failure... So I boasted to the other boys about all the fun I was having, when in fact I was having no fun at all.
Well, nearly none…
I am dreadfully ashamed now to confess to my little satisfactions. One I will not put down, even here. But at least, I will confess to the images that went with it. I made up fables for myself, as I lay awake on my bed at night. They were more elaborate ones now. As with that serf woman, so now alone on my bed. History gave me a glorious gallery of suggestions. The fall of a city, such as Troy; the capture of a ship; a shipwreck, with girls washed ashore on a barbarian coast. In every case, girls would be captured by men… I had to be careful about Troy. I had to suppress or alter some of Virgil's details – because some were too terrible to be pleasant. Violent rape and murder were quite horrible. Well: the girl would be captured but not raped. If she were sold, a virgin would fetch a higher price… I would be present, a Roman officer, at the fall of the old Punic Carthage, and their women would be led out. I would be allotted a weeping Punic virgin, or buy her from the slave-dealers. Perhaps they would strip her naked for the sale. No, I would forbid that: only half naked! Then I would be a kind master to her, treat her as a girl to be won over by kisses, so that she half yielded herself; I would caress my sweet little slave, and at last, take her…
Meanwhile, there was one sweet little slave whom we actually owned, in our very own house: Lucilla. She was Lucia's daughter by a slave man now dead. She had been born and brought up a slave in my father's house; but my mother had ensured that she was brought up well and decently. She was always neat and clean, and she was fair-skinned, with greeny-brown eyes. I liked watching her as she went about her duties in our rooms, in our courtyard. In the house she always went barefoot, and her feet were clean and white and very pretty indeed. (I love girls to have pretty feet.)
Sometimes it happened that I touched her, as if by accident, in a narrow corridor. She would say, "Oh, excuse me, Master, how clumsy of me."
But it wasn't her clumsiness. I liked touching her. If she were a little older, now… In law, a girl is marriageable at twelve years, and if marriageable…
But she was not twelve. She was ten and a half, and I could feel through her tunic that her nipples had not yet begun to bud into breasts.
When she had gone by, I felt dreadfully ashamed of myself. I had gone hard in that place as we touched – but no, I must not, she was far too young, it would hurt her. Also, it would be a kind of incest. we had both, as babies, suckled at the same breast. If I did anything like that to her, the whole household would know it, and I would be the guilty heart of a disaster. And Lucilla – I knew she regarded me almost as her elder brother. I had played with her when she was a small child, and I had been merely a bigger child.
Gloomily I thought, In a few years my father will have her. Still a pagan at heart, he will exercise a pagan master's right to his female slave. When she is twelve years or so, he will take her, surely against her will, and then boast about it, even to my mother.
But perhaps Mother had thought of that already, and had some plan to prevent it. I hoped so, for Lucilla's sake. Now, if only I were her master and owner…
I suddenly realized that I was hoping for my father's death. And suppressed the thought, with horror.

* * *

For months, then, I wanted a girl, but was not getting one. I took out some of my frustration in rather stupid behavior, in the long summer evenings, with Bavius's gang. We prowled about the farms and orchards, getting up to aimless mischief. It was coming on to harvest time, and there was plenty of fruit on the trees. I remember that some of us had a grudge against one landowner, Julius Victor. He was no richer than my father, but he gave himself airs because of his clan name, Julius. He claimed to be an aristocratic Roman, descended from the first Caesars and the founders of our Roman Carthage. I did not care much about this, but Bavius was determined to punish Victor for his foolish pride.
One dark evening, we raided Victor's orchard, attacked one pear tree, and stole a lot of fruit. I wasn't hungry, but I tasted one pear, and spat it out. (I had much better pears at home.) After that, we boys raced down the country lanes, throwing all the pears to the hogs, or at random into the ditches.
Victor never found out who had ruined his tree. So we all laughed. But after a few days, I saw what I had done. I had committed theft and destruction, barbarously, for almost no reason. I wanted to be one of the boys; but apart from that, it was gratuitous malice, evil for the sake of evil. How is this possible? What is the source of this evil will?
The Problem of Evil has come to bedevil my life.

* * *

We had a fine harvest, that year. My father and mother rejoiced. There were gold solidi in their caskets now; and my way was clear for Carthage. And Romanianus had hinted to my father, that if I did well there, he might do something extra for me.
I was nearing my sixteenth birthday. And one afternoon, my father took me out for a walk.
"Ah, Tino, you deserve a reward for all that hard study you've been doing. Poor boy, hard is the word, isn't it? Alas, you're a bit scrupulous. But this evening, you're going to get it. We're going to a very nice place."
"The Baths, Father?"
"No, not the Baths. Well, it's not far from the Baths, but it's a separate establishment. It's called the House of Paphos."
I knew then exactly what he was intending for me. And I wanted it, but at the same time I didn't. "Oh, Father, you're not going to rent me some dirty, unwilling whore?"
By now we were entering the doors of the brothel. There was a lot of marble, and couches covered in silk. And some dubious-looking servants – boys? Eunuchs?
"No, Tino," said Father. "Not a dirty, unwilling whore. A clean one, and a very willing one." He fumbled under his tunic for his leather money-pouch. "Here, take this, Tino. This you give to her as a tip, when you've finished. She likes getting tips – especially silver ones."
It was one of those old silver coins, quite rare these days, which were worth about one-thirtieth of a solidus. And a solidus is a lot of money. A student's tuition fee for one year. And a poor man can live on one solidus, food, shelter, everything, for half a year. But a poor man never sees silver.
"Her real price is ten times as much, Tino. I will pay that to her master. She is a real first-class girl, one of the best in Thagaste. Her name is Aethra. And be very sure: she will be glad to see you, a fine clean young boy like you. You will be her first man this evening, and you will have one hour of her time." He laughed. "You can get up to a lot in one hour."
"Father, have you been with her?"
He looked at me sharply. "No, Tino, I have not. I have some decency, you know – a father and son should never have the same woman. But I have spoken to men who have been with her, and they all give excellent reports. She is seventeen years old, clean, cultured. She even speaks a bit of Greek. From Egypt, you see."
"Is she a slave?"
"Yes. The brothel has owned her for two years."
"Then I won't! I won't! Father, that's evil! Like rape!"
I thought he was going to hit me. "You silly bugger. It's not a bit like rape. Tino, you will be helping Aethra to buy her freedom. With tips like the one you're going to give her, she will buy herself free in one or two years – not more. And she'll have a bit left over – enough to make a marriage, or start up in some business. She's a nice girl. You'll like it, she'll like it, and she'll do it with you very willingly."
We were shown into a room, tastefully furnished, with a large, low couch. Aethra was not there when we came in; but a few moments later, she entered.
I got a shock. I had expected a Greek girl, in a fine tunic or an antique chiton. What I saw was a girl nearly black, with short black curly hair. Apart from her color, she was indeed beautiful, just the right size of breasts and hips, and a narrow waist.
But all these charms – one could see most of them already. I will not describe her costume exactly: but there was a sort of bodice, and a loin-cloth which fell from below her navel to the middle of her thighs. She wore gold rings in her ears, gold bracelets, even a gold chain round one ankle. No sandals. Her bare feet were black but beautiful.
At this point, luckily, my father bowed himself out.
Aethra waved me to the couch, and sat beside me. She spoke – and her voice was lovely, if a little husky; her Latin excellent. And one of the first things she said, as she bent forward and caressed my burning cheeks, was this:
"You beautiful boy. A Ganymede for the gods, an Anchises for Venus. I should pay you, Augustinus, for this little of your time."
I said, stammering: "Why are you called Aethra? Is it because of that noble Greek lady who was made captive, and became the slave of Helen – lovely Helen of Sparta and Troy?"
"You are well educated, Augustinus. But no: my masters gave me the name as a half-pun. It's because I am Nubian, partly Aethiop. My skin is well burnt by the suns of the Equinoctial Line."
I do not have to go on with this in detail. I was most horribly in lust with her, and she, I think, with me. I loved her naked breasts, her navel, her thighs, her feet. We coupled three times in that hour; and the first time she was on top of me, showing how that can be done, if a man is at all willing. I found in that a new and horrible enjoyment. Now I was the slave, surrendered, taken… Aethra said this was how Calypso had taken Ulysses, for all the nights of seven years.
"He was her slave, you know. Now you have been my slave, Augustinus, and you liked that. Now, I will be your slave. You will be Agamemnon, and I will be Cassandra – or perhaps Memnon's sister, a black girl who was somehow made slave at the fall of Troy. Master, king of men, take your slave…"
I did. Twice. It was utter lust, with no love in it at all… But, at the end of that hour, all that changed.
After we had both cleaned ourselves, I suddenly perceived that Aethra was tired. She suppressed a yawn. And I knew she would have to put on this performance for some six or seven other men that night. And so on, nearly every night of the year, except when she had her blood.
I laid my hand on her wrist. "Oh, Aethra – forgive me. I am very, very sorry for you. You deserve better than this. You are not merely a body – you are a soul, an immortal soul. In the Kingdom of Heaven, we are brother and sister. And shall be so, I hope, at the end of the world."
"Oh dear," she said. "I perceive, Augustinus, that you are a Christian. You will have trouble about sex. All Christians do: some are nearly mad, either for it, or against it. Me, I am pure pagan, so it doesn't worry me much. The gods have made me strong, where it matters. I will survive all this, and one day I may be a respectable wife. Perhaps I will go to Aethiopia, and call myself Andromeda, and marry a black prince. Perhaps his name will be Perseus."
"What if you get pregnant?"
"Oh, Augustinus, don't be silly. There are ways of preventing that."
I was afraid to ask, what ways. I gave her the silver piece, and she kissed me on the lips, and said I was a very nice boy, in spite of being a Christian.
I went out, amazed at the difference between Lust and Love. For now I had known both. Much lust, then a little love. The evil imagination of taking or being taken – then the real tenderness. Could I ever have the one, the good one, without the other?
When my father met me in the hall, it was getting dark, and the lamps were lit.
"Well?" he laughed. "How was that, Tino? D'you think that will serve till you get to Carthage, you young rogue?"
"Yes, it will, Father."
Silently I was vowing that I would never go to a brothel, nor use a slave-prostitute, for the rest of my life.
And that is one vow which I have kept.






@@ 2 @@


Carthage was four days' journey down our little river and a short stretch by road. My father made the trip with me, to see me settled. He introduced me at once to the riverboat captain, an honest man who proved very useful. He acted as a letter-carrier and money-carrier, and my father had known him long. For years, he would be my main means of contact with my family. Letters sent by him upstream could reach Thagaste in eight days. In Carthage I was introduced to another business associate of my father: he was mainly a money-changer. It was arranged that I should draw my living-allowance through him.
"Not too much at a time!" said my father. "I know what you young chaps are like: give you money, and it all goes on taverns and girls."
Actually, my father was quite generous with me. He saw me settled into a small but decent lodging, two rooms plus a kitchen-washplace, part of the ground floor of an apartment block, not too far from the area of the schools. He also paid my tuition fee for a whole year with an excellent teacher of rhetoric, Quintilius, a modest man who had a growing and deserved reputation. I was soon to discover that his pupils were good young men, some from rich families of Carthage and the surrounding area. They were quiet and hard-working, unlike some fellows attached – or semi-attached – to other teachers.
Those were like Bavius's gang, only worse. They called themselves Wreckers: they played nasty practical jokes on many freshmen, and they liked barging into classes where they did not belong, if they could push past the janitor and the entrance-curtain. I mixed with some of them for a while, but soon I was disgusted, and avoided them.
After a couple of weeks, my father left for Thagaste, and there I was, with all Carthage to enjoy… And I did enjoy it.
Ah, that vast city! It was magnificent, well equipped for all the pleasures of this life, both decent and indecent. The harbor was crammed with ships; and from the hill of Byrsa, the old citadel, one could gaze east far over the blue waters of the sea, our sea, the pathway to Rome. And Carthage was very Roman: few people spoke Greek or Numidian or Punic. Punic had died here when we slaughtered the original Carthaginians more than five hundred years ago; the language survived mainly in Utica and other small cities on the coast to the east or west. Roman Carthage was still very pagan, especially where amusements were concerned. Men still killed each other in the arena – but I shunned that place, with horror. Much better than that was the great Theatre of Hadrian, which I went to often, for I loved stage-plays.
Most of all, I liked sexy and sentimental comedies, where the lovers sometimes aroused me, sometimes made me weep. Why did I bother with such fictions, when I was going the same way in real life? Perhaps for me the plays were rehearsals…
What a confusion was my soul! I enjoyed the delights of paganism, but at heart I was also deeply Christian – not in any well-formed way, for I had not read enough Christian literature; but I was already seeking after Truth. I did some of this by trying to analyse my soul: looking at its Good and its Evil. I was strongly aware that both were in me. How could this be? Where did the evil come from?
In particular, what was the relation, if any, between Love and Lust?
That time with Aethra haunted me. That moment at the end, when I pitied and loved her – that surely was from God, it was the opposite of all the rest. Could I not have something like that in my life?
I again looked eagerly at young women on the streets. I madly desired to embrace nearly all of them. How marvellous, and yet how terrible, that half the human race was female! Millions of beautiful girls – I would never be able to have them all, but I wanted them all.
But I wanted them in different ways. For many of them, those who dressed and looked about them in certain ways, Lust was immediate, and I felt my flesh rise. But this was no longer enough for me. Some girls looked merely innocent and sweet, and I felt the sweet desire to protect them and love them. I wanted to be in love with some such decent and lovely girl; but I had met with no such girl, and no such love. I was merely in love with love itself.

* * *

Meanwhile, my studies under Quintilius were thriving. They were mostly rhetoric now, with literature of other kinds thrown in mainly to give us matter for allusions in our orations. Rhetoric was the high-road to a career in law, or the more exalted career of Imperial service. That was what my family desired for me, and I too had my eye on all that. And I was quickly top of the class: our master's star pupil. Some of the other students became envious.
But not all. There was one boy I quickly came to like; boy, or should I say, young man? He was older than me, about eighteen years old, and tall. Our master had given him a seat at the back of the class, by the entrance. There was a good reason for this: Quintilius was not rich enough to hire a janitor, but if one of the Wreckers tried to barge his way into our class – as happened a few times – Nebridius got up quietly from his seat, took the intruder in a wrestling hold, and threw him bodily out. After a while, the news got around, and the Wreckers stopped coming. Nebridius was slim, but also strong, and very competent in all things. He was not florid or impassioned enough to be a great orator, but I could see that he loved literature. He had pleasing manners.
One spring afternoon, as we left the school, I found myself walking beside him. He smiled at me. "Do our homes lie in the same direction, Augustinus?"
I named my street.
"Ah, well, partly. I live a little further on, near the Baths. We can go together part of the way."
Of course, we talked about ourselves and our families. At once I felt a little embarrassed. He was rich; with a real mansion in Carthage, in the best area, and a villa in the country nearby. And he was master of his family and its wealth, for his father had died a year before. He got on well with his mother, so it seemed, but she did not dominate him in any way. He and his family were pagans.
"Well, sort of," he added. "Let's say, I am open minded. The old Roman gods, of course, are nonsense, except for literary purposes. Father Jove's main occupation is seducing or raping virgins, or playing with Ganymede; and the other male gods are much the same. In Ovid's Metamorphoses it seems to be a rape, on average, every hundred lines. And the goddesses are spiteful and murderous… No: I am a pagan only because I haven't yet decided what to call myself. I would like to find Truth. I think you can do that through the great poets, and the philosophers. Plato, above all."
He had read more widely than I had. He owned books, many more than I could afford. I was really impressed. Yet he did not put on any airs. He was quite sincere about literature and philosophy; he would like to be a teacher; but he did not need to get a government post. He could spend his life as a gentleman of leisure. He laughed. "You could call me a dilettante."
"You could call yourself a Christian."
"Ah, well now – but I can't accept all sorts of things merely on faith. I would like to examine the evidence."
We came to the corner where our ways should part, but I said I would go along his road a little longer – if he didn't mind.
"Mind? Not at all, Augustinus. In fact – do you take wine?"
"Yes, a little."
"There is a tavern a little further on my way. We could take one cup there before we go on to our dinners."
It was a place called the Silenus, with a painted sign of that old drunk to match. I expected a sordid establishment – but I was pleasantly surprised. The drinking area was a garden-court enclosed by a wall, with small tables and stools, and a bar at one side. The customers were mostly gentlemen, and the wine not cheap but good. A red-faced man was the owner: he looked a bit like Silenus himself. But the cupbearers, who served our tables, were all girls, none more than about twenty years old. There were four of them. The girl who came to us was pale-skinned, with reddish hair, green eyes, and reddened lips and finger-nails; and she wore a gaudy dress. I felt the usual reaction under my tunic.
I looked at Nebridius. "You – you know this place? And these girls?"
He smiled. "A little. But I hardly ever come here at night."
"Are they slaves? Do they – go with men?"
"Three of them are slaves. And yes, I believe there are back rooms, if you like that sort of thing. The proprietor gets most of the extra fee."
The girl came back with our wine. I wanted her: but I knew it would not be Love, and in any case I had made my vow. I looked around. The tallest of the girls was black-haired, olive-skinned, with a good figure. She seemed to dominate the other girls, and she was less obviously flirtatious. Nebridius answered my question.
"Juturna? No, not a slave – she's the host's daughter. But she also might be persuaded... Well, Augustinus, I think I must be going."
He was a cool man, Nebridius. I wished I could be more like him.

* * *

I started going to the Silenus, at night, alone. I drank, and eyed all the girls. I did not drink many cups, but lingered alone at a small table, and each of the three pretty slaves came to me, from time to time, and made it clear that I could have them. But I gave them the normal tips for wine, and left.
Most of those days, much of those nights, I was boiling with lust, and trying to fight it down. And not succeeding.
At last I attracted the attention of the free girl, Juturna. She served me wine, and said I was a handsome boy. "But a shy one, no, young sir?"
"Perhaps. I am not very used to Carthage. I come from a small town in Numidia. Thagaste. We are perhaps a little innocent there."
She laughed. "Do you come here just to drink wine?"
I half blushed. "Well – partly to see – nice people."
"Only to see? Well, you can see more, if you pay."
"I do not pay for love. If a man does that, it is not love at all."
She laughed again. She had good white teeth, and her brown eyes sparkled in the lamplight. "You are an innocent! But I like you. What's your name?"
"Augustinus."
"So. I am Juturna. And – have you ever seen me go to a back room with a man?"
"No, never, since I've been coming here."
"That's because I am not like the others. Not for sale… But now excuse me, I must serve another customer. Unless you want some more wine?"
"No, Juturna. I must go now. Thank you for everything."
And I laid on the table six large copper pennies. That was three times the usual tip for wine service. I saw her eyes widen a little, as I turned and went out into the night.
The next day was a Sunday, and I went to the service in the Bishop's great basilica. But I'm afraid my thoughts were not on the chanted prayers. They were on Juturna. I was trying to convince myself that I loved her, and was wondering how I could persuade her to be my lover.
Next midday, I walked home with Nebridius, as was becoming our custom. "A cup of wine?" he suggested.
I agreed at once – and there we were at our table, being served by Juturna. She smiled a lot at both of us. "Nice to see you again, Tinus. You and your friend – I like you both."
When she left us, he said: "'Tinus'! She seems to know you well, now."
"I've been coming here a few times. And so have you, surely: you knew this place before I did. Have you – have you tried the other thing it offers?"
He laughed. "No, I have not. It is a thing which does not attract me."
"Nebridius – may I be so bold – you're surely not a virgin?"
"I must admit that I am not."
"May I ask – who…"
"Oh, a couple of my father's slave women. On the country estate. But that was some time ago now."
I felt a touch of disgust. "You used your power over them? Your father ordered them –"
"Not at all! My father knew nothing about it. And I used no power, I paid no bribe. Those two women seduced me. On two different occasions, about a year ago. I must admit I was curious, so I let it happen. Poor girls – it must be very boring to be a slave woman. I understand what drove them to it. But – they were not very clean, you understand, sweaty from their work. And the ground of an olive grove – it is not the most comfortable of beds." He sipped his wine. "And that business produces such ridiculous emotions, you lose all control, for a while, when your body takes over. Humiliating." He laughed. "That is no good way for a philosopher. Plato advises strongly against bodily lust. And I agree."
I put my hand over his. "Nebridius – O my friend! I am sure you are right. I – I like you very much. More than I could like any woman."
He smiled at me. "Philia – I suppose you know some Greek?"
"Just a little. It was beaten into me; I think I would have learnt more if I hadn't been so thrashed. But I know that word, philia. Friendship, is it not?"
"Yes, Augustinus, my dear friend. You could say 'love', too, but it is love completely pure, nothing to do with sexual desire." He returned my hand-clasp. "In that sense, I confess I love you. And not mixed with any desire for your pretty face – that is where some of the Greeks became confused. I am not a Greek, but a Roman."
"Nebridius," I said, "my dear, dear friend – I admire you enormously! Indeed, the friendship of men is the best kind of love." Then I looked aside, at the luscious slave girls. "I wish I could keep to that alone. But I fear I cannot."
He smiled. "You may come to it in time. The love of souls… It is a far, far higher thing than the copulation of bodies."
"Yes, yes," I said. But now I was thinking: Doesn't this Pagan young man sound very much like my Christian mother?
Nebridius was sensitive to nuances of feeling. "You say that with your tongue, Augustinus, but – Euripides – 'It was my mouth and not my mind that swore'! You are an ardent spirit, and you will glow for a while. I hope you won't be burnt too much before you come to reason."
He got up. "As to Juturna – I think you will have her. No great harm in that – unless you get silly ideas about that kind of love."

* * *

I had Juturna two nights later. Or she had me. I was certainly had.
In the tavern, she was nicer to me than ever before. And she asked about my family. I told her: "My father is a town-councillor of Thagaste."
"A decurion? One who hasn't yet run away? How does he pay his taxes?"
"With difficulty. But last year, we had a good harvest. And – he has a patron, Romanianus, who is really wealthy. And he is also benevolent, and cares both for the town and for my father. We have a few slaves, a few acres. We manage."
"Is that so?" She laughed. "I like you more and more, Tinus." She yawned – or pretended to. "How would you like to take me away from all this – for a while?"
My heart beat fast. "Is that possible?"
"Very possible. I have a nice, indulgent father, and I'm due for a night off. Go outside, wait near that bakery-cookshop, and I'll soon be with you."
The cookshop was only a few doors down the street. I saw its sign, a picture of bread and meat, with the name painted on it, MALCHVS. My God, did you decree that irony, that conjunction which came to rule my life?
There was a full moon. That mean street, to my eyes, had never seemed more beautiful, as I throbbed with hope. And then Juturna was with me, wrapped in a cloak and veil, just like a respectable lady.
"Come now, Tinus, let's go to your place…"
Well, at last I had a woman – in Carthage, and not by my father's arrangement. Juturna was not very pretty in the face, but her naked body excited me enormously. Mine seemed to please her, too. We rolled about on my bed for a long time, and got sweaty; for it was a warm night. We "made love," I think, three times. But it was not really love. Each time, whichever way up we were, she managed me, dominated me, and each time I slid into that fantasy of myself as her slave, Ulysses to her Calypso. The opposite one was not possible – which irritated me at last. And I came to realize that I did not like her much, as a person. For between bouts, she boasted of her father's wealth.
"He was a decurion too, you know, like your father. But he grew tired of trying to collect taxes for the Emperor, and then having to pay out of his own money when there was a shortfall. So, he ran away. We all ran away with him, and came here to Carthage, where we – flourished. It's a well-paying business, running a tavern. Father was soon able to buy those three girls. When he has made enough, he will sell up again, and buy land, and pass as a respectable gentleman, not a decurion. And then I will be able to marry a gentleman too. A gentleman – maybe someone like you, Tinus… Or someone just a bit richer."
I felt strong dismay. An image came into my mind – of myself, in a few years, married to Juturna, or someone like her. A rich whore, who would probably cuckold me, and, in the pride of her riches, attempt to dominate me. Insufferable! Man is naturally the master, woman the servant. If my family ever landed me with a wife like Juturna, I would certainly use my man's right, and beat her. Only in fantasy may a woman rule a man.
Curious, that a favorite fantasy is exactly the opposite of what I wish in real life…
Thoughts like these took away my enthusiasm for the business we were next to engage in. But that did not matter, for she took me into her hands, made me stiff enough, and mounted me.
After that, she said it was time for her to go. I was not sorry. I had to escort her back to her home, that brothel-tavern. When we got there, I stood in the moonlight, and wondered how she would get in.
"Oh, I can do it discreetly enough, Tinus. Watch."
There was a narrow lane beside the wall of the drinking-court: it led to a latrine at the back. Juturna went into the lane, drew out a key, and so got in by the side door.
I stood for a moment looking down that sordid lane. Then I turned, and went home. I did not walk – I ran.

* * *



The next day, when I was walking with Nebridius, I turned down his suggestion of a cup of wine at the Silenus. "I – I want to do some reading. I'll – just go to the cook-shop, and buy myself something for my dinner."
He looked at me quizzically, then laughed. "All right, my friend. But tomorrow – why don't you come to dinner with me, at my home?"
I accepted. He left me at the doorway of the cook-shop, and went on his way.
I thought it best to go into the shop, just in case he looked back. I did not cook for myself, so it was reasonable for me to use this place. Usually, I went to a shop in my own street for meat and vegetables, and to a bakery next door for bread. Malchus combined both services, so he would do: this time I would merely carry the food a little further.
On such little decisions, a life may depend.
Inside, there were the usual arrangements, except that the counter was longer. At one end a rather swarthy man, the proprietor, was dealing with the meats. In the back room, half seen, a woman was doing the cooking. To the right of the meat area, along the counter, there were two girls serving customers with bread and vegetables, and wrapping these orders in wide green leaves. One of the girls was brown-skinned like the man – her father? She was perhaps fourteen years old. The other girl –
I caught my breath. She was white-skinned, brown-haired, with grey eyes. In her manner, serving the man ahead of me, she was decent and modest. She wore a simple white tunic, quite unadorned, so I supposed she might be a slave. She seemed about my own age.
And she was utterly, supremely beautiful.
I drank in her appearance in a very few moments. I noticed that her finger-nails were entirely unpainted, her lips just as pink as nature had made them. She wore no ear-rings. Her only ornament – if it was one – was a cord round her white neck, presumably to hold some pendant which was hidden by the neckline of her tunic.
I could have gone to the other girl, the dark one, but I loitered till I could be served by my beauty.
"What would you wish, sir?" she asked. Her Latin was excellent, but with just the trace of an accent, which at first I did not place. Then the other girl said something to her, and she replied, in a language which I did not understand. But I recognized it. It was Punic. That was her accent, then – Punic. She was of that people who had once ruled Carthage and the other coastal cities of Africa, before we Romans had conquered them.
"What would you like to have, sir?" she repeated.
"Oh – oh – I suppose, some bread," I stammered.
"A small loaf?"
"Yes. No! Make it a big one."
She had noticed by now how I was looking at her. And she avoided my eyes. I guessed that a lot of male customers must look hard at her… Poor girl!
I could not contain myself. I blurted out: "Are you his slave?"
"No, sir. Stepdaughter. Will there be anything else?"
"I – I suppose not." And then I had to pay. In doing so, I tried to touch her hand, but she neatly avoided my fingers.
I came back that evening, ostensibly to buy vegetables. And of course, I bought only from her. And slipped in a few desperate words irrelevant to my purchase. "Are – are you from Carthage?"
"Utica, sir. Born there."
"Freeborn?"
"No, sir. We are all freed-folk in this family. Have you had enough, now?"
Not really, I thought. I wanted to ask her name, but I didn't dare. Then her stepfather frowned at her, and called sharply, "Hanna!" With a very strong H.
So that was her name. Hanna.
The man spoke to her in Punic, and I left. Hanna, Hanna… I savored the word. Certainly a Punic name. In Latin, it would be Anna. Anna had been the sister of famous Dido, Queen of Carthage in the olden time.
Anna, my Carthaginian princess…
Rubbish, I told myself. She was born a slave. She is almost certainly not a virgin. Cookshop girls are not all that different from tavern girls. She might be another Juturna; or maybe her stepfather hired her out…
I immediately decided to break my oath. If she was for hire, I would hire her. At least, that way I would get to talk with her, talk properly. Find out if her soul matched her face in beauty. Find out if she was really modest. And if she was, if she didn't want to do it, I wouldn't do anything to her. Except tell here that I loved her.
For I did already half love her. Beauty as supreme as that compels love. Perhaps it should not, since male friendship is a higher thing. But a beautiful girl is surely an image of the divine, of goodness, or at least of Eve in the time of her unfallen innocence.
Next day, I was sorry that I had to dine with Nebridius. Actually, it was a pleasant experience, and in other circumstances I would have enjoyed it immensely. His house was elegant, spacious, and beautiful; and now I met his mother, a charming middle-aged lady named Placida. The name suited her. And everything about that home was very Roman, in an old-fashioned way which I liked. After dinner, Nebridius walked with me in a fine tree-shaded garden behind the formal courtyard.
"Augustinus," he said, "you seem distraught. Is anything the matter?"
"Nebridius, I – I think I'm in love."
"You're always in love. Who is it now – one of those tavern girls?"
"No. I – I'm a fool. But…"
And then I blurted it all out. He sighed. "Well, perhaps I could see this paragon. Tomorrow, at the cookshop?'
And so it happened. This time I bought vegetables from the other girl, Lydia, who was Anna's stepsister – while Nebridius, in his competent way, dealt with and talked with my beauty. I managed to keep this going by distracting Malchus, the proprietor, with an order for cooked meat, and with chit-chat about his excellent establishment and his family. Yes, they were all from Utica. Marta, the woman who was doing the cooking, was Anna's mother. I saw her as she came into the front room. She was a quiet woman. She was, or had been, good-looking; her fair-brown hair was going a little grey. She had a dark bruise on one cheek.
Malchus boasted that he was a Christian catechumen. "Like me," I said.
"Ah yes, sir, very good! It is the only true faith."
But there was something in his manner that I did not like. His wife seemed cowed. I had seen bruises like that on other wives. She was humble and obedient, and yet he beat her. He was one of those men of low degree, who feel great when they can lord it over those under their control: the female, the weaker. I feared for Anna under this stepfather.
Then we were coming away. "Well, Nebridius?" I said.
He put his hand on mine. "I congratulate you, my friend. If you must have a girl, I think you have found a good one. She is modest, and I think actually a virgin. She says she will not go with men, unless she is forced."
"Forced?"
"I get the impression that Malchus wants to prostitute his daughters: his own daughter, and his stepdaughter Anna. After all, that is what often happens among people of that class. The men treat their women as exploitable property. But Malchus may have problems, if Anna resists him. For Anna is not his slave, nor his natural daughter. In fact, if she were to run away, I doubt that he would have any legal redress. His wife, her mother might have; but even that's doubtful. But law is mostly a matter for the upper classes, you know. Among people of this kind, it is often force and fear that rule."
"Have you any advice for me?"
"Well – you could go on buying food here for a while." He laughed. "Don't get yourself more deeply involved, until you are sure you want to. Then, if you really like the girl, and she likes you, the best move would be to buy her. From her mother."
"Buy her? Like a slave? But she is free. And I have nothing like the money –"
"I could help you with that. They can't actually sell her as a slave, at a slave's full price. But if she is to be your concubine, you will have to give them enough to make them stop bothering you. And, of course, you will have to win the girl over yourself."
Concubine. That was the right word, of course. Since I was of the decurion class, and Anna was slave-born, it would be unthinkable for me to marry her. Illegal without my father's consent, which he would not give; horrifying to all my relations and friends; and surely a grave blow to my career. It might be love, but it could not be marriage.

* * *

I haunted the cookshop of Malchus for many days. I do not recall now how many: perhaps it was twenty, perhaps only ten. It seemed like a century… I soon realized that most of the customers were low-class men. Many were trying to gawp at Anna, to ogle her; but she gave them no encouragement. Neither did her stepfather, and I was glad of that. I was even gladder that he was becoming more tolerant of me. I told him, in Anna's hearing, that I was Augustinus of Thagaste, freeborn, of the decurion class, a student of rhetoric. One day he asked me abruptly: "Are you rich, sir?"
"No, not very."
"That is a pity…" He glanced at Anna, who was then serving an old man, who was clearly trying to stroke her hand.
"Not rich," I said, "but not poor. And my father has a rich patron, and I have one rich friend, in Carthage. A powerful friend."
He shrugged. "Ah well, that is the next best thing, to have rich and powerful friends…if they are friendly enough."
I saw that I had a chance – but I could not bear to take it. I would not buy Anna until I knew I had her own consent and love. (So different from my fantasy of enslaving a girl – a Punic girl, at that! – and then possessing her. In real life, I abominated the idea.)
But how could I speak to Anna, how get her to love me?
The day after that, I was in luck. It was early afternoon – I had just parted from Nebridius – and I saw at a glance that Anna was the only person in the front part of the shop. I heard Malchus's voice in the back room, raised in anger – quarrelling, I guessed, with his wife and daughter.
I went to her at once. "Anna, I must say things quickly. I love you –"
She looked straight at me. "Other men have said that to me, sir."
"I love you, not as other men. I know you are good and virtuous, and I want to protect you. If you are in danger, come to me. I swear by God and my Lord Christ that I will not touch you, unless you want me to."
She gave me a faint smile – ah, her first smile! "I am not in such urgent danger of ravishment. On the contrary, I am closely guarded from all men. They will not sell my virginity quickly, or cheaply."
She was a virgin, then!
And that was the end of it. Malchus came back, and this time he looked ugly. He did not want me to talk to Anna alone. I left at once.
That evening, I saw her again; but Malchus and Lydia were there too, so I could not say anything much. With my lips I shaped the silent words, "I love you!"
She gave me another smile. It was unmistakable now – she liked me! At least, a little.
Next morning, just before class, I told Nebridius what had been happening. He laughed.
"I think indeed you are making progress. But tell me, Augustinus, about this love of yours. How does it differ from friendship?"
"It is friendship! I want to be her friend, I want to save her!"
"Do not deceive yourself. There are many girls forced into prostitution, here in Carthage. And older women too. You are not trying to save them. Why not?"
"I don't know them. They are nothing to me. But with Anna, there is already a bond between us. A bond of friendship: even smiles make a bond, and she knows that I love her. And that is why I must save her."
"If Anna were old and ugly, would you then be concerned to save her?"
I had no reply to that, except to say in my heart, But she is not old or ugly, and her outward beauty expresses the beauty of her soul.
After class, we walked together – of course, toward the cookshop. I said: "Nebridius, if it is really urgent, can I tell her to run to your house? At any time she can manage? You have janitors, slaves, power to protect a suppliant. As for me, there is only me. And if I am not at home, she couldn't safely linger in my street."
He smiled. "Aren't you afraid that I might make love to her?"
"Not in the least. You are my friend. You would not do that."
"You are right. Pretty though she is, I would not. I feel benevolence toward Anna too, but that doesn't mean I need to clasp her. Well, all right, you can give her the directions to my house. But it would be a little embarrassing for me: it would take some explaining to my mother. And I think you are going about this the wrong way, my friend. You should seek out Malchus and the girl's mother, and make them an open offer. See how much they want. It should not be more than half a slave's price – ten solidi. And I can lend you that."
I was overwhelmed. Ten solidi! Twice my yearly allowance!
"Thank you," I said. "If need be, I may have to do it. But I do not want to do it that way. Not till I am surer of her."
"Oh well, good luck."
He left me, and I went into the cookshop. But this time, Anna was not there. And Malchus and his daughter would not tell me anything.
I went again in the evening. Again, she was not there. They said she was unwell, as women sometimes are; but Lydia tittered, and Malchus's manner was such that I did not believe him.
Next morning, I told Nebridius: "I may need your help very soon. If – if I don't appear at class one day, please come to my place, and as soon as you can."
I went to the cookshop just after midday. This time only Lydia, Anna's stepsister, was in the front of the shop.
I laid a large penny on the counter. "This, for you, if you will tell me what has happened to Anna."
"Two," she said. I laid down another penny.
"All right. She does not work here now."
"Where, then?
"At the Silenus, the tavern."
I felt horror. I turned, walked out, and went straight to the tavern, the drinking-court.
And there she was, my dear Anna, with the three other girls, the slaves. She was dressed like them in a gaudy ornate tunic, with gold rings in her ears. For a wonder, Juturna was not there.
I immediately got Anna to serve me wine. When she brought the drink, I told her: "Sit down with me, at this table. The rules of this house allow that."
So she sat opposite me, her hands in her lap. I had already noticed one nice thing: they had not painted her fingernails. (A little later I realized why: they were emphasizing her virginity.)
"Anna," I said, " for the sake of goodness – how are you?"
She gave me a real full smile. "Augustinus – I am still a virgin. I have to work here in the evening till one hour past sunset, and then my stepfather comes and takes me away. I only pour wine, I am not allowed to sleep with men. What they are doing is, showing me off. The cookshop does not attract enough rich customers; even you are not rich enough for them. Here, rich men see me all the time; and presently, in a few days, Malchus will sell me to one of them – I mean, hire me out for the night, for a high price the first time. But I will not let that happen. I would rather die."
"Will you come to me?" I said. "I have a lodging not far away. And you know what I have sworn to you – you will remain a virgin, if you want to. Indeed, I can put you in a place where you will be entirely safe. Even from me."
She hesitated. "I hardly know you. You hardly know me. Do you want to protect a slave-born girl?"
"Yes, I do. Now tell me about yourself – everything, your childhood…"
I had to buy more wine, and then she sat down again, and told me what there was time for. She was born in Utica, daughter of the slave-woman Marta, but her father Sichaeus was Marta's owner, a good and cultured man. All that family spoke Punic. She and her mother had both been freed when Anna was six years old. But as freed-folk, of course they remained in the father's household, owing him services. Anna had been rather a favorite child of her father; but – a common story – the stepmother Tanitha, the father's free and legal wife, had been a bitter enemy. When her father died, Marta felt in danger: Tanitha might claim her and Anna as slaves, pretend they had never been freed, and might sell them… So she decided to flee. By now she had taken up with Malchus, a widower, a local cookshop owner. At first he had seemed pleasant and protective. Malchus quickly took them all to Carthage – Marta, Lydia, and Anna.
"I was treated just like a free girl while my father lived," she said. "That was a very good time, till I was twelve years old. We all spoke good Punic and good Latin. My father was a merchant, a shipowner, a learned man… But enough of me. Now, tell me about yourself, Augustinus." She smiled. "Are you virtuous? How old are you?"
"Sixteen years and nearly nine months… And you?"
"Sixteen years and eight months. I was born in December."
We both laughed. I was just one month older than her. Then I told her a little about myself.
"You sound nice," she said. "But there in Thagaste, with all those slaves… Do you like beating slaves, Augustinus?"
"I don't think so. I've never beaten any, in my whole life. I have seen my father thrash some men slaves. That has to be done, sometimes, of course; but I did not enjoy the spectacle. Any more than I enjoyed being thrashed myself, as I was, at school, unmercifully, and my parents laughed at my complaints."
"Poor boy! I was much luckier. I never went to school, and my father never beat me. I suppose my mother smacked me when I was little, but later on she was very loving to me; and I have never been whipped. Tanitha would have loved to whip me, but I never gave her any excuse. Malchus has hit me some times, as you might guess. And you, Augustinus: have you been nice to your previous women? Do you beat them?"
"No. But I have had very few previous women –"
"Your last worked here, I think. Juturna. She has been very angry about you. The other girls told me you went with her once, and then never appeared here again."
"That is true. She was not nice, and I am ashamed of what we did. Where is she now?"
"Out, with some man."
"Heaven be thanked. Well, you know now. I have had a few girls. But I never loved any before. I never lived with any before. Anna, I want to live with you for the rest of my life."
She looked sad. "It is good of you to say that, Augustinus. But I know that will not happen. You will have to marry some noble girl –"
"I am not in any hurry to do that. A wife would be a clog on my career. My mother thinks that, and she has persuaded my father. Perhaps I will never marry. Why should I marry, if I have a girl as fine as you?"
She laid her hand on mine. (The first time we touched!) "Augustinus – I will confess it now. I love you also. I have never loved any man before. I think you are the nicest, the kindest… No man has been kind to me since my father died. But I know you are kind and loving."
I was overjoyed. "Come to me tonight."
"Yes, but how?"
We worked out what to do. The side door of the wine-court was not locked till the last guests departed… I wound wait in the street from sunset. Half an hour later, Anna would walk out of the side door, pleading that she had to go to the necessary place. She would quickly join me in the street, before her stepfather arrived…
And that is what we did. I met her in the evening shadows, and we walked away together – at first slowly, then almost running. At last we came to my apartment, and I opened the door with my key.



@@ 3 @@


My outer room was my study, sparsely furnished; next were the kitchen and bedroom. Once I had lit the oil lamps, I put the massive bar across the entrance door, and turned to her.
"Now, my dear, we are safe for the night. Are you hungry? I have fruit, bread, wine."
Anna clasped both my hands, and kissed them. "My dear master –"
"Anna! I am not your master, you are not my slave!"
She smiled. But it is a pleasure for me to call you Master. Or, since you have freed me from a horrible tyranny, think of me as your freed-girl. And freed-girls can still say Master to their patrons… You asked me a question. My lord, my master, I am not hungry. But I will do whatever you wish."
"Then…sit on my bed. It is the most comfortable seat in my dwelling. And wait: I at least want wine."
I brought the full cup into the bedroom, and sat beside her. She had now stripped off her gaudy tavern tunic, and was dressed only in her white linen shift. She had also put off her sandals: her sweet white feet were very shapely, the toenails unpainted. Her sole ornament was a silver medallion, which hung by a cord on the breast of her tunic-shift. It seemed a pretty thing, a silver disc steadied on the white cloth between the risings of her young breasts. But at that time I paid little attention to the medallion. Her own shape was much more important.
I was already stiff with love. Strange, that that reaction is common both to love and lust; at least, it is so with me. Even when I embrace a pretty little child, with no foul intent, and feelings of pure protection, my flesh rises. That was how I began, with the boy Chrestus; and so it was now, looking at Anna, barely touching her. But I restrained myself. There would be time, soon enough, for those other things.
I sipped the wine, and offered her the cup. "Drink also, Anna."
"Master, I almost never drink wine."
I laughed. "If I am your master, that is an order. Drink just a little with me, Anna. This is our loving-cup, the pledge of our faithful love."
She sipped, and gave the cup back to me. I drank it off, then put the empty vessel on the floor. And then, for the first time, I kissed her. On her lovely lips, which tasted sweet to me. Then we were in each other's arms.
She smelt sweet, oh so sweet, and her fair skin and yielding flesh gave themselves up to my caressing fingers. I had never known such a moment before: pure, untainted Love. Compared to this, mere rutting was Hell; this was Heaven… I caressed her face, her brown-gold hair, her little ears, her neck…
I was overwhelmed by her vulnerability. My hands on her sweet girlish nape, and the bones I could feel beneath the skin: other hands, here, might kill. Anything could destroy this tender body. But not now, not in my arms! I would keep her safe.
I suppose all men feel some of this, when they hold a tender love in their arms. This is what Love means.
And Anna, dear good Anna, she felt something of the same for me. A man, of course, needs less protection, but I could feel her hands being protective. The darling girl – she was modest, but not shrinking. She caressed my neck, my shoulders, and nuzzled against my chest. Then she looked up, her grey eyes large with love.
"Oh Augustinus, my love, my master, I know you will be gentle with me. I am entirely at your mercy – and I am glad of that. I had thought, in the last few days, to run elsewhere for mercy and protection; but no. Love for you conquered me."
She was fingering that silver medallion on her breast. Ah, after perfect love and delight, how soon did a shadow fall on our life together!
I saw now that the medallion bore the face and bust of some female personage. I asked, "What is that, Anna?"
"The goddess Isis, my dear master. I had thought, if ever I ran away, I would run to her temple. The Lesser Temple. My mother and I know that holy place. The priest and priestess there are good, kind people. They might have given me sanctuary."
I felt a shock. "You – you are a pagan, then? God pardon me, I never thought to ask."
"My mother and I have long followed Isis. She is a kindly goddess, very faithful to her husband Osiris, and loving to her son Horus. It is a cult of Egyptian origin –"
"I know. But very popular also here in Africa."
"Yes, there are temples both in Carthage and in Utica. My father – my real father, Sichaeus – he used to encourage us. He dabbled in religions: he came across so many, partly through meeting merchants from Egypt and Syria. My name, now – he gave me that. It is really Hebrew, though nearly the same in Punic. Hanna – it means Grace. Or Mercy, or Piety – so my father told me. At one time, he nearly became a Jew; but he thought better of that."
"Or worse. Jew is half way to Christian. And I am a Christian."
"Yes, I know. So is my stepfather… But I am sure you are a better Christian than he is."
"Not – not very good. I am not yet baptized." She was making me feel guilty now, about what we were going to do. "Hanna – Anna – you really ought to be a Christian. I would like you to go to Heaven at last; and only the Lord Christ can open that gate to you."
"Will you force me to change my religion, Augustinus?"
"Not force. But advise."
"My stepfather has not endeared the Christian cult to me. But if Isis bothers you, I can at least take her off."
And she kissed her medal, took it off her neck, and placed it on a chair. Then she was back in my arms. And I forgot the problem of religion.
Ah, she was truly a sweet girl. She did not resist at all when I raised the hem of her tunic and exposed her lovely thighs; she helped me when I stripped her completely. Her body was perfect, like the statue of a young goddess, but warm and living. In a few moments, I was naked myself.
She looked at me as frankly as I looked at her. "Ah my dear, my dear young master, how beautiful you are!"
"Beautiful?"
"Yes. All of your body is beautiful. I have seen naked youths before only in statues. You are better than all of those."
I was growing stiffer as she spoke. She looked at that with innocent wonder.
"Is that, too, beautiful?" I said.
"Oh yes. Are you going like that because you love me?"
"Yes," I breathed. And it was true. And it was still Love when I was on her and going into her. She gave a little cry, quickly suppressed.
"Oh, have I hurt you, my darling?"
"Just a very little. It's all right, you have made me a woman, I knew what to expect. Not hurting now. Go on loving me, my dear master."
I went on. But now, to my sorrow, I found that to complete the act, Love would not be enough… I had to move into lust, the old tried thing which always brought me to orgasm. The old images came flooding back – and now stronger than ever. For she really was a Punic girl, I really was a Roman. I was taking my captive girl at the gates of fallen Carthage… Again, her skin was a little paler than mine. So now I was a brown Numidian raider, and she was a white girl, Punic or Roman, whom I had dragged to my tribal hut, I was making her a Numidian slave girl among my people, I was raping her… The evil of the images made my pleasure greater and greater, until I came, and my seed was going into her. Lust died at once. And when I came out, I saw a little blood on her body, my doing. And I felt so sorry for her! I helped her clean herself; and all the while I was thinking, Dear God, does it always have to be thus? But yes, it will always be thus. My Original Sin.
We were lying now side by side, and she was gently kissing me, on my shoulder, on my cheek. I said: "Anna – can you forgive me, for what I have done to you?"
She gave a little laugh. "Forgive? Of course, my lord. What you did was rightly done. I am a little sore now, but they say it only hurts a girl the first time. Next time it won't hurt at all, and perhaps I will like it even better…if better is possible, when it was already so good."
"So good…What did you feel, in your mind, when I was doing that to you?"
"Joy, my dear master. Joy at being one with you. What else is love, but being one with another person?"
"You did not feel lust, a pleasure in being enslaved – I mean, imagining yourself enslaved, and I taking you, half against your will?"
She was quite startled. "No, no – why should I think that? You did not enslave me, you freed me, I am your freed girl. And I gave myself to you very very willingly. Wasn't it the same for you?"
"Not…exactly. To begin with, yes. But to finish, for me – oh, it is vile, vile, and I am very sorry."
She stroked my chest, and kissed me on the lips. "I don't understand. But I think you worry too much, Augustinus. You are a philosopher, I am only a simple girl. But let me tell you the truth about yourself: you are a very, very good man. Whatever you think you are doing, inside me, you are making me feel joy. You are making Love. And it is not vile at all."
I had to believe her. She was not like those others – the serf-woman, Aethra, Juturna. She could do it without feeling carnal concupiscence, or if with concupiscence, then of a very innocent kind. She certainly loved giving herself up to me, as to a master, but to a master who she knew loved her and would seek only her good. Her heart and mind were directed toward me, and not to any imaginings of her own submission. Pure love, forgetful of self. Perhaps Eve felt this way toward Adam, if those two ever made love in Paradise, before the Fall.
She proved this to me, again and again, through all our years together. But I am sure she is a rare exception. Most women are like Aethra and Juturna – intent on their own pleasure – or else they take no pleasure in the act at all, and merely submit to husbands or masters. That for sure, is why the mother of Christ was always a virgin. Such a one must be free of every least taint of sinful lust. And since the Fall, all sex is tainted.
Because Anna was still a little sore, I did not take her again that night. But we slept together. It was very sweet – her dear sweet body against mine. I had never actually slept with a woman before. It was wonderful, and it was pure love again, not that other thing.

* * *

When I awoke next morning, I did not find Anna beside me. But as I looked round, there she was, standing by the bed, naked and slightly dripping. She had washed herself. Her grey eyes were full of joy.
She knelt, and kissed my feet. "Oh, Augustinus, how I love you! My dear, dear master – I wish I was truly your slave-girl."
That aroused me at once. I got up, and stepped lightly with my bare feet on her bare feet – another thing that gives me strong pleasure, half-way between love and lust. I pulled her into bed. Then I remembered. "Are you still sore?"
"Yes, a little. But, master –"
"No, I don't want to hurt you, Anna. I want never to cause you pain."
Tears trembled in her lovely eyes. "You are the first man who has cared about my pain, since my father died. Ah, you are the best man in the world…"
Her tears made her even more desirable. It was hard to go no further, but even that little suffering, for me, was a kind of joy.
She repeated: "I wish I was your slave – so long as you didn't ever sell me."
"Anna, how can you wish that? Why? Slavery is a terrible condition."
"I did not find it so. When I was little, I ran about our house, freer than most free girls. I knew the word 'slave' – I knew it applied to me, for mistress Tanitha was always calling me that, and so were my freeborn half-brothers. I knew they didn't like me – but I knew myself loved, by my mother and father. I only began to be afraid at six years old, when I understood that I could be sold, away from home… Then my dear father freed us. Of course, as his freed-women, my mother and I still owed him service, and I learned all the usual skills of a woman's work. I worked much harder after I was freed than when I was a slave! But I did not mind. It was the best time of my life – till now. With Malchus, I found myself in something worse than slavery. I think we women are always slaves, more or less, whether we are a household drudge or an emperor's wife. The man always has power over us. What matters for us is to find a kind master. I have now found one: you, my dear. And if I were truly your bought slave…"
"Then what, Anna?"
"Then, when you marry, you could still keep me as your slave – if you were firm enough with your wife. I would work for your noble wife gladly, even if she beat me – just so long as you, my dear master, were sometimes – kind to me."
Suddenly she was altogether in tears, sobbing on my chest. I kissed her again and again. "No, Anna, no, I do not intend to marry…"
"Ah, well, perhaps I may die before that day." She stopped weeping. "I am sorry. I will try not to do that again. I want to be a help to you, never a trouble."
It was well after sunrise. We got up, dressed, and took bread and fruit together. And then there was a knock on the door.
"Augustinus – it's me, Nebridius. It is safe for you to open."
He came in. Anna bowed to him, and retired into the kitchen.
He said: "You were missed at class, and I guessed what had happened. I excused myself, and came away. Do you still like the girl? I suppose she is no longer a virgin."
I blushed. "Yes, and…well, she is my woman. She is good as well as beautiful. And I want to keep her. What should I do now?"
"I will arrange most of it. Come with me now to Malchus. We must do some bargaining."
And that is what we did. Malchus was at first inclined to attack me, but Nebridius pulled him up sharply. "No insolence, please. I am friends with the city prefect, and I have sturdy men-slaves. I could make things very unpleasant for you. Let us talk to the girl's mother."
Marta was trembling and tearful. But we calmed her. I said I loved Anna dearly, and would protect her from all other men. Nebridius asked: "How long, exactly, have you and your daughter been under the care of Malchus?"
"Four years, sir."
Nebridius calculated. "One year's maintenance, for a growing girl – that is two solidi, at most. And she was working for her keep, not like a small child. We will give you eight solidi, and you will sign a contract renouncing any claim you may have as to your daughter."
Malchus was appeased. I could see him working it out – he might have got less by selling Anna's virginity. And in law his claims were nothing. He had not married Marta by any ceremony.
We at once got Anna's clothes back from them – two tunics, a little cloak, and a veil. After that, we were able to return that gaudy tavern tunic. I had wondered about the earrings – but Anna told me she had left them in a strong-box at the tavern before she ran away.
Now that she was decently dressed, I was able to introduce her to my neighbors in the block, who were mostly poorish folk, but decent. And Anna at once began shopping for me, nearby: she said she would cook for us at home, and that would be cheaper. Once we saw that she was safe, Nebridius and I left to complete the financial transaction.
"Eight solidi," I said. "Nebridius, how can I ever repay you?"
He laughed. "Slowly, over many years. One day, Augustinus, you will be a great orator, and rich. I can wait till then."
"Thank you. But I can raise one solidus myself, now. I will take only seven from you."
To him it was a trifle; but I really wanted to buy Anna myself, with some of my own money. She called herself my slave-girl, or wished she were. I wanted that to be partly, if only in fancy, true.
So it was done. Nebridius brought a slave with a strong-box, and his own notary, to the shop of Malchus. The eight gold pieces were handed over, and both Malchus and Marta made their marks on the document, which I now received.
"Oh, my lord," said Marta, "be good to her! She's a good girl, my sweet darling child! And if you dismiss her, master, please give her something – enough so she can keep herself decently."
"Be sure I will," I said. "But I have no intention of dismissing her."
"May I see her, lord, just a few times? It can't be often – my man won't let me."
I said yes to that, and we came away.
"Now," said Nebridius, smiling, "go to your girl, Augustinus, and enjoy the dinner she must be cooking for you. But I tell you one thing: you may not be married, but you may find some of the same hindrances. Don't let her waste too much of your time. Come to class tomorrow. And – I am sure you will have some unforeseen expenses. Two people cannot live quite as cheaply as one. If you need some more small loans, I will be at your service."
"Thank you again," I said.
When I got back to my home – it was a real home now – Anna had indeed got a good dinner ready. She told me how much it had cost: I was surprised how little.
But she knew how to bargain for these things.
"And I will work for you, my dear master. If – if I can get a loom, I can weave, sell the cloth, make our tunics…"
She was full of plans to save me money. And then she said, suddenly: "How much did you pay, to buy me?"
"Eight gold solidi."
"I will never forget that." And she kissed my hands – eight times.

* * *

It was early in August that Anna became my woman and housekeeper. I went to classes again for a week; and then till early October it was the Vintage Vacation. I had earlier planned to spend most of this in Thagaste, but now I did not. I did not want to leave Anna so soon: partly because I enjoyed her body and her sweetness, but partly also because I wanted to make sure of her; to see her settled and safe in our neighborhood, and also… Well, these were early days. She seemed totally devoted to me alone – but was she? She liked and admired Nebridius, she knew he was rich and that it was he, mainly, who had saved her from Malchus. I must confess I was sometimes jealous. This was stupid of me: I should have trusted her loyalty earlier. But I did feel so, on and off, for more than half a year.
Of course, I did not introduce Anna to my other friends, or take her to any of our social gatherings. Few women are really able to converse with educated men, and certainly not an illiterate slave-born girl. Also, I wanted to keep Anna as far as possible a secret: not so much from Carthage, as from Thagaste. My father might not have minded, except for consequent expenses. But I was sure my mother would be horrified.
So I stayed in Carthage, writing home that I wanted to do some intensive reading of Cicero; I was top of my class, but I wanted to really excel, if possible to be known as the best orator in Carthage. (And that, certainly, was no lie.)
I got two letters back. One from my mother, in her very simple Latin, gave me startling news. My father had had a dangerous fever, and so had been baptised. But he was quite well again now.
Poor man! I thought. He may have to be a bit more restrained now. It may cramp his style…
My father also wrote, saying nothing about the baptism. He commended my good work, but said I definitely must come home for the vacation at year-end. Romanianus was highly impressed to hear of my progress, and had said he might do something for me next year. He was a home-town patriot, and there was no grammar school in Thagaste, and he had his eye on me as a future teacher there, once I was old enough and well qualified.
I was overjoyed. I wrote back and said I would definitely come at year-end. If Romanianus could give me some solidi towards expenses next year, that would be a great help.
My expenses were increasing, at least to start with. I did not want Anna to be idle when I went out, so I fulfilled her request, and bought her a loom. It had to go in the bedroom: a bit of a squeeze, but we managed. She worked hard at it, and after a few weeks she actually began to earn some money, selling her cloth in the market. Later, she began to make clothes for both of us. This was a definite help, for decent tunics are expensive.

* * *

I enjoyed Anna even more, as I got to know her more. Indeed, our feelings toward each other never cooled: seemingly pure love on her side, both love and lust on mine.
One afternoon, she told me things about her early life in Utica which stirred my flesh. As a slave child, she had been allowed to run about naked till she was three years old; and even when she was freed, she had always gone barefoot in her father's house and garden. She had never been told that any part of her body was dirty, so she did not think so now.
"Wasn't it like that for you, my dear master?" she asked.
"Not at all!"
And I remembered how it had been. My mother had seen to it that I was always clothed, that much of my body must always be hidden. And I always had to wear shoes, outdoors and indoors; I was barefoot only in bath or bed. But slaves went barefoot in our house… So I thought of a girl, barefoot in the house, as either a slave, or going to bed, or both – a slave to be taken to bed… Now I imagined Anna as she must have been, a twelve-year-old free girl, with white bare feet, her soles browned with the dirt of the garden. Lust overwhelmed me, and I threw her on our bed. She giggled as I played with her feet, her toes, her soles; then when I stripped her and took her, she cried out with joy.
"Was that pure love, for you, again?" I asked.
"Oh yes, oh yes, darling master. I love you whenever we come together. I am glad you like my feet! But I love all of you, all of you is clean, beautiful."
So innocent, so different from me. I hated myself: I never actually hurt her, but I enjoyed the imagination that I was enslaving her, raping her. My Punic slave-girl… And she really was Punic, that had been her first language. If she had been truly my slave, would my lust have been greater? No, impossible: one cannot enslave a girl who is already your slave. I "subdued" Anna and took her so many times, with so much pleasure, that my lust could not have been more. And she liked being "subdued." Sometimes she would say, "O my sweetest, I give myself up wholly to you." And she meant it, and to me it sounded like poetry. And in all our years together, she never once tried to get on top of me, never wanted to. And I liked that about her, that she was really submissive, she loved me to be her master. (But she had her own integrity, as I discovered in due course: she was never really slavish.)
So I lived with my love and my lust, and every time I had taken her, and my lust was spent, I felt dreadful shame at my sin. Even loving fornication is a sin, but my lust was still worse. It was Evil, no question; but why did I enjoy Evil? Where did this come from?

* * *

Toward the end of that vacation, I began to feel restless. I missed our regular morning classes, and I could not always be dining out with Nebridius or other friends. The afternoons, especially, when I had dinner at home… Anna was always willing if I felt like throwing her onto our bed; but love, or lust, is not enough to fill a man's whole life.
And then one afternoon, Anna's mother called. Again she had a bruise on her face, and I knew that Malchus had beaten her. He was irritable, she said, because he had bought a young slave-girl to replace Anna in the shop, and there was some trouble training her. I noticed that Marta seemed to have put on weight. She was very humble in her manner to me; but she asked if possibly – if I could spare Anna for an hour – could she possibly go with her to the temple of Isis?
That gave me an idea. I had never seen this temple. I thought I might as well go and sneer at its idols. So I let Anna and Marta lead me to the place.
I had expected a large temple in the usual classical style, but instead found a small building, a hall in the style of a basilica. It was not the main temple of Isis in Carthage, but another, called the Lesser, not far from the harbor.
At the main entrance stood a man and a woman dressed respectably but in no special robes, and these were the priest and priestess. They recognized Marta at once, and made us all welcome.
"There is no rite being celebrated now," said the man, "but come in, all of you, and see what the goddess can do for you."
Meanwhile, the priestess was embracing Anna. I noticed that the priestess wore, over her tunic, a medallion like Anna's, but bigger, and in gold.
"Sir," said Bastis," Hanna is grown, I barely recognized her. At first, when they came to Carthage, they visited us; but then, the stepfather… We have tried to help her and her mother, but it was not easy. I am glad that Hanna has now found a good protector. Well, will you come in?"
We all entered; and immediately all the others were taking off their sandals, to honor their holy ground. Meanwhile, I examined the hall. There were only small high windows, so it was a little dark. But I saw the statue of the goddess. It was not much bigger than life size: a woman crowned, clothed in a dark blue robe decorated with a full moon and stars. She was seated, cross-legged, with a baby boy on her lap. Her face was slightly downcast, slightly sad.
Apart from the statue on her plinth, the room was very bare. No chairs or stools, only some dark-colored cushions scattered about the floor. Anna and her mother left me, and walked quietly up the hall. They made a deep bow to the goddess, and then arranged themselves cross-legged on the cushions, looking toward the statue. They were perhaps praying, but in total silence. There were no other worshippers in the room.
"And you, sir," said Serapius, the priest, softly. He had noticed that I had not taken off my sandals. "Do you know something of the Lady Isis?"
"I know that she has been much worshipped in the past – especially by women. But she will not be, by me. I am a Christian!"
The priest nodded. "Ah yes, sir. The religion favored by the Emperors. I know that you will conquer soon, and then no doubt our temples will be closed, our worship forbidden. But – I think in the end you will find it difficult to do without the Goddess. We call her Isis, but she can have any name. She is but one aspect of the One – the aspect of mercy, compassion, and sorrow for the sufferings of men and women. Sailors call her Star of the Sea."
"What are they doing, those two?" I said.
"Praying, I suppose, or meditating. Marta, I am sure, is praying that her child will be born alive, and will live. Her previous one by her present man – it lived only a few days. Many women pray to Isis for children."
I had not guessed that Marta was pregnant. But she was still only in her thirties, so it was quite possible. I could not help being a little moved by this scene. Marta was bowing her head now toward the goddess. Anna, my Anna, sat with head erect, looking steadily at Isis.
"They should rather pray to the one true God," I said, "not to an Egyptian woman. Well, what sacrifices do you use? What animals are slaughtered at your altar?"
"None, sir," said Serapius. "It may have been different in the past, it may be different at the Great Temple. But we belong to a reformed sect. We do not think Isis delights in killing. We offer her only the fruits of the earth: ears of wheat, flowers, fruit. Apart from that, we try to do good, in a small way. We are not rich, like your Bishop. But behind the temple we have a vegetable garden, with which we feed a few poor people. And we have quarters for the minor priestesses we call Helpers – widows, mostly poor ones to whom we give shelter. This is not very different from some of the practices of your church."
"And these widows," I said, "do they give their favors to men?"
"No, no sir! Isis is not Venus. There is nothing of that kind here. Venus is a good goddess, also; but we think people should worship her in their own homes. In bed, in pure marriage. In the myth, Isis is a wife, but a suffering one. Her husband died. And she loves her child, and is afraid for him."
"A goddess? Afraid?"
"Yes, sir, a goddess and afraid. Isis is the Lady of Life – but she does not have all power, not like your God. She does what she can – as we her followers do also. But as we all fear for the lives of those we love, so does she."
Anna and her mother now stood up, made deep bows to the goddess, and came away. Anna looked very beautiful, very calm.
When we reached my dwelling, I wished Marta all happiness with her coming child. Then she left us, and I turned to Anna.
"Well, what did you pray for, Anna, when you prayed to your goddess?"
"Master, I prayed for my mother, and for all suffering people, especially the good ones. And I asked for myself: courage, calm, wisdom, and love."
"Those are great words, for a simple girl like you!"
"My lord, even a slave-girl can know those words. They are not difficult words. My father followed Isis in the end, and he taught me to pray thus. And everyone needs those things, be they emperors or slaves."
"Did you pray for me?"
"Yes. I prayed that you would be happy in your life. But in case that might offend you, I addressed my prayer not just to Isis, but also to your great god, the Master of the universe."
"Enough of that! Never pray for me in that temple again. We Christians do not beg favor of demons. And we hold that all your pagan gods are merely evil demons!"
She looked at me now very sadly. "I must not contradict you, master. But do you really think that Compassion is an evil demon?"
"Oh, that's enough! I will grant that your cult is not so evil as some others. But what is Isis compared to the one, true, All-powerful Creator and Lord?"
She said nothing, but turned to the kitchen. "Augustinus, may I serve you a cup of wine?"


#4



In November came news which hastened my departure for Thagaste. My father had had a relapse of fever, and was dead. I was head of my paternal household. I had just turned seventeen.
It occurred to me, for one moment, that there was now no legal reason why I could not marry Anna. but I put that thought aside. There was still every social reason. I could not defy my mother, my maternal uncles, all my relations; and I would not compromise my career.
I left Anna in the care of Nebridius. He said he might take her to his villa in the country; but even his town house was spacious, and could suffice. We took Anna there. The lady Placida, my friend's mother, knew about my girl already, and was not in the least shocked. She made Anna welcome, and I could see at once that they genuinely liked each other.
"So young," said Placida, "so young! Seventeen, in a few weeks! And so pretty."
"Mistress," said Anna, "you are so good. If I can serve you in any way, command me. I am used to hard work."
"No, no, my dear, I have slaves enough. You will be my very dear guest."
"Then I will work at the loom every day for my master Augustinus. I must not be idle."
My parting with Anna was a sad occasion for both of us: on that first day of December, we had been together, with no separation, for over three months. But I behaved with manly firmness; and Anna also managed not to weep.
"I will work," she said, "and I will be faithful in every way. In every way: I am yours alone, Augustinus, for ever."
I made no such promise to her. In such a situation, I thought, a man should keep his freedom to take his pleasures; and Anna was not even a wife.
But in fact, I also was faithful to our bed, and continued so all the years that she was mine. I am not sure why. Perhaps I have a certain timidity about approaching strange women; and wooing them is a great waste of time, which can more profitably be spent on matters of the mind, or on friendship. Also, I never met a woman whom I could love, in the way I loved Anna. I saw some I lusted after; but I was ashamed of that, and my lust was already well satisfied, for Anna and I were never apart for very long.

* * *

When I reached my father's house, he was of course already buried. My young brother and sisters were moping about the place, miserable and crying, though my nurse Lucia was doing her best with them. My mother behaved much better. She met me in dark mourning garments, and told me Patricius had made a good end. "So, he is in Heaven, after all – waiting with the souls of the just for the Resurrection."
She tried to be glad about this, but I detected in her a certain resentment. My father had enjoyed his loose pleasures till very near the end of his life. In spite of some sayings in the Gospels, his road to Heaven had been wide and easy. Indeed, I think it was consideration of this which first began to shake my own orthodoxy.
My father had had time to make a Will. One provision was that pretty little Lucilla, now nearly twelve, was freed. I wondered about that, but Lucia told me that her daughter was still a virgin. "Oh, Master Tinus, he kissed her a bit, you know, but it didn't go any further. Mistress, your mother, was always watching like a hawk; and just as he began to get really interested, he got ill."
I embraced her, kissing her on the cheek. "I'm glad. You can be free too, dear Nurse. It's not in the Will, but I am master now, I can do it."
"No, no, Tinus! I never want to be free of you, my boy! Never, never."
I smiled. "You women are funny. Aren't you afraid I might sell you?"
"Come, Tinus, you'd never do that, and you know it. And I am an unsalable old article, anyway."
My second mother… Since she could not be my actual mother, she wanted to keep the bond of bondage. I told her I would free her any time she asked, but she laughed. "I never will, my boy, my dear."
There was one clause in the Will which took me aback. Though I was head of the house, my mother was to manage our estates until I had completed my twentieth year; with advice and protection from Romanianus. This was a blow to my hopes: it seemed I would get my usual allowance in Carthage, no more. Luckily, Romanianus came to my rescue.
He visited our house to offer condolences, especially to me, the new arrival. He was still young, only four or five years older than me, and I remembered him perfectly, from that embarrassing scene in the Baths, which seemed now so long ago. He was genuinely grieved at my father's death, but it was not in his nature to be sad for very long. He looked around my smallish house, and saw that it was rather full of people – my uncles, cousins, and friends of my father and mother.
"I need to talk to you, Tinus. But not here. Come to dinner at my place, tomorrow."
When I arrived at his fine mansion, I mused over what I knew of him and his domestic arrangements – what the whole town knew. He was a Christian catechumen, but only after my father's fashion. A recent widower – there had been a sad story about his young wife; but he did not lack for women. He was given to slave concubines, of which he had now at least two. But he was a man of some culture, fond of the Latin poets, especially Ovid and Horace.
I met him in his beautiful large garden court, a place with trees and grass and detached outbuildings. In the background I saw a young woman playing with two very young children. But in the foreground, Romanianus was strolling with Varus, his cousin, a lad of my own age. I knew Varus well: we had been school-fellows. He was a handsome boy, fair-skinned and fair-haired. Like me, he had literary and philosophical tastes, but his father was rich, so he would not have to pursue rhetoric for a career. I liked him; but I did not yet foresee that one day he would become a great friend, and would thereby cause me great sorrow. Now he excused himself, and left me in that courtyard with Romanianus.
"Tinus," he said, "I gather you need more money. Special expenses… Come on, tell me, I can guess what sort of expenses. I won't be shocked. See those brats at the bottom of the garden? Both mine – and one's a bastard. So, tell."
"If you won't tell my mother…"
"I won't. I promise."
I blurted out the whole story. He laughed.
"Remember Horace? 'Let not love for a slave-girl, Xanthias, put you to shame.' No, it's nothing to be ashamed of, Tinus. Much better than going to hired whores. Yes, I approve. And you are doing well in your studies. The girl doesn't distract you from those?"
"Not at all, sir. She is very discreet. When I am working, she keeps out of my way, and does her weaving."
"Ah, but how? In that little apartment…"
In the end, I got what I was hoping for, and more. Enough solidi to pay off my debt to Nebridius, and enough to move into a better lodging. He insisted that it must be larger, with at least two bedrooms. "Have you thought, Tinus – what if she has a baby, hey? Mine are rather given to that."
"Oh sir, I hope that won't happen –"
"Bit it may, you know, it may. Even if you take precautions, there may be a little accident. A healthy girl of seventeen! Very likely. Yes, two bedrooms. You don't want to be deafened by the cries of a small child…"

* * *

Early in January, at Nebridius's house, my reunion with Anna was a joyful one. And then, our new quarters… We quickly found a very pleasant dwelling, still in a block of apartments, but now occupying much of the ground floor, with a little garden behind – in which Anna promptly planted some vegetables for us to eat. I guessed where she had got that idea from: the temple of Isis. But I said nothing about that: I was glad to see her so happy.
About this time, her mother Marta was safely delivered of a healthy baby boy. But from that time onward, we saw less and less of that family. Malchus made money, for his daughter Lydia was pleased to go with men, for good fees; and now he bought a second slave-girl, and moved to a distant part of Carthage, where he kept a tavern, and prospered.
Anna sighed. "Poor Mother. But with those girls, and Lydia, she won't be worked too hard. It's not much she asks for, from life. I suppose she would say that Isis has answered her prayer."
I do not know whether Anna thought similarly, or had prayed so also to Isis, but the fact is, the event foreseen by Romanianus took place, within that year. Indeed, it was already under way. In late January, Anna told me that she was pregnant. I immediately began calculating backwards, and became furiously jealous – of Nebridius.
"Oh my dear love," she cried, "how can you think such a thing? I am more than two months gone. My blood was already overdue when I said goodbye to you. You begot this child in November. I swear to you by every god – your Master of the universe, my Lady of Compassion, by all good powers – no man has touched me in your absence. And, Augustinus, no man ever will."
This was in our garden, and the rays of the evening sun lit up her face. There were tears in her eyes, but she did not break down. Instead, she knelt and kissed my feet. Then, still kneeling, she looked up and said: "Perhaps there is a difference between a man's love and a woman's… You will surely have to discard me one day, my master, but I will never discard you from my heart. I am your woman for ever. I don't know what there is beyond this life; the priests of Isis think there are other lives, but they don't insist on that. If there is another life, we may meet, and then I hope I will be either your slave or your wife. But as long as I exist, I am yours. No, beyond that. Beyond all time, my love for you is a fact in eternity."
I was touched, and also amazed. I looked into her beautiful blue-grey eyes, so filled with love, and I kissed her on the forehead and on the lips. "My dear, I believe you. And this is a great oath that you have sworn."
"I will swear it again one day."
I guessed what day she meant. But I put that thought aside. "But how should a girl like you know such a word as eternity? Has Nebridius been giving you the benefits of philosophy?"
Now she smiled. "Not Nebridius. Like other gentlemen, he doesn't think of conversing so with a woman. No, once more, it was my father. I have known about eternity since I was ten or eleven years old. I don't know if it's possible, but it's a beautiful idea, to think there is a place outside time, where love can be registered, as a fact for ever."
Our son was born in the latter half of August, when both Anna and I were still under eighteen. When the event was clearly imminent, I moved Anna to Nebridius's house. His mother procured an excellent midwife, and there were no complications. When Nebridius summoned me, I came, just in time.
"She is a very brave girl," said my friend. "She has hardly cried out at all."
And then we heard the cry of the new-born one…
When they let me in, Anna had her son, our son, already at her breast. She seemed confused, astonished. When we kissed, she said:
"My love, I did not know this other kind of love. But I suppose it is Nature that has me in her grip. I love this little one, oh so much… I am glad I have so much milk. I want him to drink me, to eat me, and no woman else…"
And that was how it turned out. We needed no wet-nurse. But Placida sent round a slave-woman every now and then, to make sure that Anna was managing. She was, very well.
The boy had then dark blue eyes (later, grey), and the beginnings of dark hair. He was of course ugly, as all babies are; but Anna did not think so. A good thing about him was that he did not cry much. Perhaps he got his fortitude from his mother. Lucia had told me that when I myself was new-born, I filled the house in Thagaste with my screams.
I had not wanted this child, but as he grew, I came to love him. He would gaze at me, as though he already knew his father, and knew how important I would be in his life. In fact, he was to prove a very good son to me. Dear lad! God has given him a better nature than mine, much less prone to sin.
When he was two years old, while we were still in Carthage, I signed a document acknowledging my paternity. This had the legal force that, should I die, the boy would belong to my family, though not as an heir: he would not be merely cast adrift to wander the world with Anna, perhaps in poverty. But I had little real fear of that: Nebridius and his mother assured me that in any event, Anna and the boy would be safe.
I decided now to call him Adeodatus – Given by God – which he had been, whether we wanted him or not.
"Nathanael," Anna murmured.
"What?"
"That is what 'Adeodatus' would be in Hebrew. In Punic, rather similar."
I felt a certain irritation. "I suppose your father taught you Hebrew?"
She laughed. "Only a few words, my name and the names of some Jews he met."
"Even a few words of Hebrew are a lot for a young freed-girl."
She clasped my hand, and kissed it. "Dear master, don't be jealous about my father! Yes, he did indeed favor me beyond all custom. It used to frighten my mother: she told me never to reveal to others how much I had been taught. And there was good sense in that. Our mistress hated us already, and the more I was educated, the more of a threat I would seem to her and to her two legitimate sons. My father had no other daughter; that's why he treated me so. Well, I did learn to hide, to pretend I was utterly ignorant; I have made an exception only of you. But think, dear master, what I would have been like if my father hadn't made so much of me. I might have been always a slave, for one thing. It was when I was six years old, and I learnt what slavery meant, that I ran to my dear daddy and cried – and the next day, he freed us…"
"Dear God!"
"Yes. And after that… If he hadn't taken me on his knees, and taught me stories, and prayers, and about eternity? I guess then I would have grown up like my mother, thinking only of what to eat, and how to avoid beatings, and how to get a man to protect me. If I had been like that, would you have loved me, the way you do now? I don't think so. You might have used me for a few nights, then you would have got tired of me. Boring, good only for bed and housework… So, thank my father in your heart for making me a little more interesting than most freed-girls."
"Well, you might be right about that. If only your father had made you a Christian, I could forgive him anything."
I still felt a grudge against that man. He had educated Anna above her station in life, and then damned her with a false religion… From that time on, though Anna told me more about her father, I never myself raised that topic.
Still, I liked it when she called our boy "Nathanael." A well-sounding name, almost like an angel's.
There is, in fact, a Nathanael mentioned in the Gospel of John, as an early and fine disciple of Christ. When I learnt about that, I was very pleased. But when I named Adeodatus, I had not yet read the Gospels.
Indeed, I was rather ignorant of the orthodox Catholic faith, and its scriptures.
That was shortly to be my downfall – into an error which blasted nine or ten years of my life.

* * *

Through the generosity of Romanianus, I was now able to buy a few more books. And one book I bought now altered my path in life, permanently, in a good way. it was Cicero's Hortensius, in praise of philosophy as the great way to Truth. I had had urges that way before, especially from Nebridius; but now I felt a real glow of excitement. Other men had followed this path, and attained to wisdom and goodness; why not I, also? This was something greater than rhetoric! In my outer life I was a student of rhetoric, a lover, and a father; and happy in all those roles. But outer, natural happiness was not enough. One day all this would pass away, and we would die…
Cicero led me on to the obvious short cut: the Christian scriptures. I bought a fairly cheap copy of all the four received Gospels, and eagerly began reading…
I first struck the begats, in Matthew, which were a bore. Skipping through those, I came to the main narrative; and then I was hit in the face by the style! After Cicero, it was barely literate. It was like my mother's letters, like everything we were taught in the schools to avoid. Was this stuff inspired by the Holy Spirit? It sounded more as if it were written by fishmongers – which, no doubt, it was.
That year, while my son was a baby, I often roamed the streets of Carthage alone, worrying about my spiritual problems. One problem above all was overwhelming: the problem of Evil.
I knew Evil, intimately, within me, in my lust. And then there was the natural evil of the world. I had been aware of this all my life. But by luck, or God's favor, I had not suffered much of it. I was free, middle class, and I had never gone hungry in my life. But of the people I saw in the streets, a great many were slaves, and many of the "free" were in worse plight than the slaves. I had seen some of this in Thagaste; in Carthage, in some neighborhoods, it was much worse…
Beggars. Men, women, children: some very old, some very young, all in rags, all dirty, many diseased, with sores, mutilations. Some were surely starving. The Bishop did what he could, especially if they were Christians, but there were too many of them. "Never give them coppers," my mother had told me. "If you do, they'll only spend it on drink." And anyway, if you did, more and more would come after you, their filthy hands outstretched. It was better to avoid eye-contact. But even out of the corner of my eye, I still saw it: Evil. And the last evil was Death. My luck could not hold for ever. One day old age, disease and death would devour us all – even me, Anna, and Adeodatus.
How could there be such Evil, if God was good, and all-powerful?
One night, when we were just going to bed, Anna sensed my gloom. She laid her soft hand on my shoulder, and kissed me, and asked why I was so sad.
For once, I confided to her a problem in philosophy. After all, it was a clear and obvious one. "Why, why is there Evil?"
She stroked my chest, like a mother soothing a child. "Who knows? But will you be angry if I tell you – something from my father?"
I sighed. "Oh, very well."
"It was some days before he died, when he knew he was going, and I was crying. I was twelve years old. He said: 'Hanna, I have to go, because I came. There has to be death, because there is life. Without death, no birth. Without night, no day. Without danger, there could not be Love. I have loved you, and protected you, from beatings, from slavery, from many evil things. I think without those evil things, love would not be possible. Hanna, Evil is what serves death. Good is what serves life. In the myth of our religion, Seth and Isis… Seth is the killer. He does not enjoy what he does, but he has to do it. We do not worship him, we worship only Isis, but we recognize that Seth also has his place, his necessary place. Sometimes we have to use Seth ourselves, we have to make evils; but that is never pleasant. Try to make more good than evil in your life, my dear daughter.' And, master, ever since, I have so tried. But I know that, faced with some things, I would do evil. If any man tried to harm my baby, or you, I would try to kill him. And killing is evil."
"Not all killing," I said. "Well, your father's speech is very moving. He was a rhetor, as well as a philosopher! But he does not explain the origin of Evil. Was it there, from the beginning of the world?"
She kissed me. "Does it matter, this origin? All I know is that some people are nasty, some are nice. My stepmother and Malchus – nasty. My father and you – nice. I am too simple to go beyond that."
"I must go beyond that. And why is there so much evil, so much suffering, so many people desperately poor?"
"I do not know, Augustinus. Perhaps you should ask that of your Roman rulers…"
Well, we "made love," and after my lust was slaked, I slept, and forgot the problem for a few hours. But next day, there it was, nagging me still.

* * *

It was in July of that year, a warm evening, that I happened to be walking in one of the better streets of Carthage. The westering sun shone on the fronts of some handsome houses, and I felt a lift of my spirits. If there was Evil in the world, there was also Good.
I stopped abruptly, looking at an unusual house. The building's front had been altered, pushed back to leave a forecourt adjoining the street. In this court, right in front of the main entrance, there was a white stone statue, life size. It was of a young man, beautiful, dressed in a strange way: from his shoulders to the base streamed folds of stone like white rays; and his arms and eyes were raised to heaven. With the sun shining full on him so, he seemed a being of light itself.
Then a man emerged, and smiled at me. He was about thirty years old, dark haired, well dressed in a rich tunic and mantle.
"Sir," I said, "what is this statue?"
"Friend, it is the figure of our Lord Christ, the Savior, the Lord of Light."
"You are a Christian, then? I never saw such a statue in a basilica."
"This house of ours is not a basilica. It is a meeting-house for some truly Christian friends. Our great desire is to find a sure path out of the perplexities and evils of this world of darkness. My name is Jovianus, and I am a leader in our little group. Young sir, if you seek wisdom and enlightenment – enter."
This was very enticing, and I entered at once. I quickly found myself in a hall nearly as big as the temple of Isis, but much lighter. Sunlight came in through large windows, and there were also many lamps, all lit. There were gentlemen seated on fine chairs, facing toward a pulpit on which lay a great book, sumptuously bound. Beyond that, on a long bench facing the congregation, sat other men, thin-faced, long-haired, in ragged dark robes, and barefoot. I thought them a strange contrast to the well-dressed gentlemen; but Jovianus told me that they were ascetics who had altogether given up this world of darkness with all its worldly frivolities.
"Ah, they are the true Elect: they have given up sex, and animal food, and wine, and all riches. They own nothing but their pure souls. We others should really do the same, but the dark flesh is our weakness. We call ourselves Auditors; for we hear the true doctrine, and do our best to promulgate it, but we are not perfect as the Elect are perfect. Hear now the true doctrine, Augustinus."
He went to the pulpit, and read from that great and beautiful book. The style pleased me: it was far more impressive than the Gospels. And at once I was told of the relationship between Good and Evil; namely, that in the beginning they had no relationship. They were two opposed substances: God, the Father of Greatness, was the good substance, while Evil was hyle, dark matter. Our present world was the result of a disaster, a battle which the angel of Good had lost. Demons had swallowed particles of goodness from the body of the angel, and that, essentially, was our world: mostly evil, with particles of goodness which had to be refined and expelled from matter. The Moon and Sun were helping: for they were good spirits. When the Moon waxed, it was absorbing evil, swelling up with it; when it waned, it was transferring evil to the Sun, which then threw it altogether out of this world. The Elect also were carrying on this same good work: it was something to do with the vegetable food they ate (all of which had to be supplied to them by the Auditors). And what had Christ to do with all this? Christ was an emanation of the Father of Greatness. He had never had a real body of dark matter. He had never been really crucified, but he suffered continually in the particles of goodness bound up in earthly fruit.
Christ was the first great prophet; and the second great prophet, who had made all this true doctrine clear, was Mani of Persia, who had suffered a cruel death for his preachings, about a hundred years ago.
The best news was, that we were not responsible for our sins. There need be no guilt, since it was the unwilled Evil substance in us which did evil, caused the acts of lust, and so forth…
I drank in all this greedily, and by the time the meeting was over, I had enrolled myself as an Auditor. I was a follower of Mani – a Manichee!
I was warned to be circumspect about my new faith; for Manicheism was denounced as a heresy by the dominant church, and was prohibited by the laws of the Empire. However, in Africa and Italy the laws were allowed to sleep: there was no actual persecution.
I groan as I write this. How could I possibly have swallowed all this nonsensical mythology, and wallowed in it for nine years/ Mainly because it seemed to explain Evil, and removed guilt. Lust, of course, was Evil – which I knew already. Really, all sex was evil, dirty – but Auditors were allowed sex so long as they did not procreate children.
Jovianus was soon giving me a little tutorial on methods of preventing birth. My heart sank a little when I heard the details, for I knew that Anna would not be pleased. Still, she would have to obey me.

* * *

Anna was at first happy when she heard that I had found a religion to satisfy me. "You needed something," she said, dandling our eleven-month-old son on her knee. "You were growing so depressed, my dear. And I am glad that this doctrine will free you of guilty feelings when we make love."
But the details of Manicheism left her bewildered. "I think I am too stupid to understand all this, master. But if it is your duty to feed these strange men with vegetables and fruit, I can help – from our own garden."
"Very good, Anna. Oh, I am so happy! I always thought this world was dreadfully bad. We must reach out to the World of Light, beyond darkness and death… There is one other advantage: I do not have to be baptized. One can be saved without that."
She gave me a beautiful smile. "How nice! Then, my dear, you don't have to worry about dying suddenly, and going to Tartarus… That is what your main sect believes, doesn't it?"
I admitted that was so. In Catholic doctrine, all the unbaptised went to Hell – even babies. I had been anxious about little Adeodatus. "Even you can be saved, my darling," I said, kissing her. "You don't even have to become a Manichee. In our doctrine, only the really wicked go to the demons, when this world is destroyed."
"Oh, good," she said. "It's nice to know I won't be tortured for ever, merely because I cannot understand certain doctrines. Good news for me, and my son, and my mother, and my dear father."
But her happiness faded when she heard, in outline, what I intended to do about sex. She was astonished. "Children… It is true, dear master, that when we came together, we did not think about children. I only thought, how much I loved you. But I am so happy now about this little one, and I think you are too. Of course, if you think one is enough, for a while, I understand that, too –"
"Not just for a while. It must never happen again. Jovianus says it is worse than sex itself. We must not bring more humans into the world of this darkness."
She gazed at me, open-mouthed. "What – what would happen, my lord, if all people came to accept this religion?"
That was astute of her; I saw her meaning. She was uneducated, but not stupid. "Why," I said, "this world would end, for there would be no more people. But that would be a good thing, Anna, not a bad one. We would all pass into the World of light, leaving dark matter behind."
"That World of Light," she said, "is it like Elysium?"
"Something like. But more spiritual."
"I do not want to be a spirit, Augustinus. And you – if we were both to pass into this world of Light, I would not want you to be only a ghost. My dear love, I love you as you are. I love your soul, yes, but I also love your body: your handsome face, your smiles, your kindly hands. And your baby: I also love his body. I cannot imagine him as a little ghost. At least, I would rather not."
"Ah well," I said, "I was taught to expect that of a woman. You women have more darkness in you than us men. You are more material than I am, Anna."
She giggled. "it does not always seem so, my lord… At least, your new teachers do not prevent you from doing that."
"Well…" I said. And then I told her the details. Not at certain times of her month, when she was likely to be fertile. And even at some other times, I must not complete the act within her body. Perhaps at those times I might avoid completing altogether, and so avoid the need for lust.
She thought for a moment, imagining what our life together would now be like. Tears trembled in her eyes. "If – if you had only turned to Isis, now, she would have allowed you everything... Do you think, my dear, that you will be able to keep these commandments?"
"I will try very earnestly," I said.
And in fact I did, with very few violations. It was sometimes messy, when I withdrew from her. But at least we did not have any more children.
This was perhaps the beginning of unhappiness for her. She did not mind when I refrained from the act altogether; she was glad merely to lie in my arms, and kiss me. Once she said, "Augustinus, this is the true Elysium – pure love. If we could be spirits like this, my love, I would be content to be a ghost." Indeed, now I remember those as very happy times. But sometimes, of course, I had her in the old way. I restricted my imagination to just one fantasy, which was not too much of a fantasy: that for me, the Roman master, she was my Punic slave-girl. The main fiction here, which was necessary for my lust, was that she was half unwilling, and I was conquering her. In fact, she was perfectly willing, and I knew it.
But I think she would have liked to have more children. One effect of my success in avoiding this was to make her, if possible, even more attached to Adeodatus. Once she said, "My master – I beg you, have mercy on me! Do not throw me out till this little one can – can at least – do without me!"
I calmed her fears. "Of course not. I will never throw you out, Anna!"
I made quick progress as a Manichee. I learnt from Jovianus to sneer at the orthodox Bible. God, in Genesis, created humans "in his own image"? God, then, must have a human-type body, with penis, testicles, and perhaps (to include both sexes) a vagina. And the "good" patriarchs and kings, such as Abraham, Jacob, and David were sheerly immoral, with several wives and concubines. And Matthew and Luke gave totally different accounts of the birth of Jesus… Some of the New Testament was good, but many parts had been corrupted by the "orthodox"…
And so it went. I had polemics for everything. I had not then understood the allegorical reading of Scripture – nor had I noticed the nonsense of Manichee astronomy.
I then became an active proselytizer. I converted many of my friends in Carthage, including, in the end, Nebridius. Well, Nebridius enrolled as an Auditor, but he was never a true, complete believer. He often scoffed at quite basic points of Manichee doctrine. He was willing to believe that the Flesh was evil, but he could not swallow all that incredibly complex war before Time between the forces of Light and those of Darkness. "If God is invulnerable, as they say," he objected, "why didn't He just remain apart from Evil, and refuse to fight? Then there would have been no fall into this world, and no problem."
In the course of the next year, even I found some of the Manichee cosmology absurd. The real astronomers, from Aristotle onward, explained the phases of the moon very clearly by geometry – as the moon went round the earth we saw more or less of the sunlit side. So the moon was not absorbing and spitting out Evil. This, plus Nebridius's objections, left me uneasy, but did not shake my basic faith. I liked too much the idea that Evil was a substance, partly in me, for which I was not guilty. It was the demons, not I, who lusted after Anna's body… Well, I believed that part of the time. In the act itself, it felt more as though I were the demon…
And so we went on, and our baby grew. And then came the time, when I was just twenty years old, and well qualified, that Romanianus summoned me to Thagaste, to become a teacher there, in my home town. As for Anna and the baby – no problem, they could live quietly in the house of Romanianus, and my mother need not know.

#5


In this part of my story, I am going to use the liberty of the classic historians, and present, complete with speeches, scenes at which I was not present. But for all such I have credible witnesses, above all, Anna. I have never known Anna to lie, even when a lie would have been of clear benefit to her.

* * *

Nebridius helped, in our journey to Thagaste, by lending us three middle-aged slaves, a man and two women. These were necessary for handling our baggage, and also, in Thagaste, as plausible escorts for Anna.
It was cool December, and muffled in cloaks we had a good voyage up river. Adeodatus, two years old, ran everywhere about the ship, amusing the sailors, and not babbling, but talking distinctly. from Anna, mostly, he was picking up very correct Latin. I could see now that he was certainly my son: he had my pale complexion, with black hair. But he had his mother's bright blue-grey eyes; they seemed to notice everything. He was certainly intelligent; but, even better, he had a sweet nature. At an age when boys scarcely notice their fathers, he was devoted to us both.
He went barefoot at this time, and for about a year longer. I argued with Anna about this, but she won: she convinced me. "Look at him, Augustinus! Barefoot, but not cold. You complain of cold feet now, in winter, even with your boots on. That's because you were brought up from little with your feet covered. I wasn't, so I'm not cold, I don't really even need these sandals. Besides," she smiled, "when he grows up, he will think nothing much about bare feet, he won't be mad about girls' feet, the way you are. I'm sure he will love girls enough without that."
So Adeodatus went shoeless, and I thought: Lord God, Father of light, make him a better man than I, without lust, without filthy imaginations.
When we reached Thagaste, it was about sunset, and I was glad of the shadows. Even so, I walked some yards away from our group, so that no prying townsfolk would see me near Anna and her child. She would look like a respectable lady traveller, perhaps a young widow, with her son and her slaves… And so, without mishap, we came to the house of Romanianus. I had to bestow my girl and my son there, before I could approach my family house, and my mother.
Romanianus was now about twenty-four or twenty-five years old, and seemed older; he had put on weight. In his forecourt, he greeted us cheerfully.
"So this is Anna! Tinus, you never told me she was such a beauty! My young wench Phryne will be jealous! But never fear, my friend, I will keep my fingers off your dear bedfellow. It will be pleasant to have her here, with your fine son. I will maintain, as long as I can, the tale that she is a distant cousin of mine, visiting me from Utica. That won't work for ever – my real relations will see through it – but after that we'll think up another story. But really, why are you doing this? You are of age, your father's house is your house. You should take your woman and your boy boldly with you. If your mother is displeased, that is her problem, not yours."
"My mother is a very good woman, and I would hate to offend her."
"Yes, I can see that! Tyrants come in both sexes… Well, let me show your people to their quarters."
By torchlight, we walked through his courtyards till we came to a great garden court. In the far corners of this, there were two detached dwellings, like cottages. Under the eaves of one I saw a brown-skinned woman with a girl-child about five years old. She got up as we approached, and came forward, hesitantly.
"My slave Chloe," said Romanianus. "The little girl is her child by me. Greet the lady Anna, Chloe. She is to be your neighbor."
Chloe was a couple of years older than myself and Anna. She was a brown Numidian, with black hair and black eyes, shapely, with pleasant features. She bowed low to Anna. "Welcome, milady. I show you your house?"
And that is what happened. The cottage for Anna and my son was exactly symmetrical with the one occupied by Chloe and her daughter.
Romanianus and I left the women and children together, and strolled through the main courtyard. My patron explained his plans: there would be space for my school right here in his house, and he showed me the room where I would teach. It was suitable in every way.
"I have already got some pupils lined up for you. There is Alypius, son of a neighbor, well-to-do; he's fifteen…" He reeled off several names. "And then of course there's my young cousin Varus, whom you know. He's too old to be your pupil, but he's told me he would like to sit in sometimes on your classes."
"He will be very welcome."
"You'll be here much of the day, won't you? Morning classes; then mid-afternoon you can dine with me as often as you like. Will you spend the nights with Anna?"
"No. I'll go to her some afternoons, some evenings, but I must spend the nights in my family home."
"You're a fool. I would not leave a girl as lovely as that alone at night… And – I really fear your mother will find out at last, anyway. A secret like that can't be kept in a town like ours for two years."
I knew he was right, but I put the thought aside; and walked through the night to the house and people I had not seen for three years.
* * *

I astonished the janitor, then immediately in the forecourt I met my nurse Lucia and Lucilla. After the initial cries of surprise and joy, they both kissed me on the hands and on the cheek. Lucilla was now a very pretty girl, nearly fifteen, barefoot in the torchlight. I felt an immediate surge of love for her. She was so sweet, my milk-sister, my freed-girl. But it was protective love that I felt, not lust. She was very innocent in her kisses: clearly she still thought of me as a big brother, not a possible lover. And I accepted that.
It was just as well I did, for now Lucia said: "Oh, my dear boy, Mistress your mother is so kind to us. She is already thinking of a good marriage for this little one. She wants to find a good freedman, maybe one in our employ, certainly a Christian."
"Well, Lucilla, I wish you joy," I said.
"Now," said Lucia, "you must come to Mistress. She really expected you tomorrow. Your young brother and little sisters have gone to bed. Your mother must be sitting over her wine in the dining room."
"Wine?" I said, uncomfortable. My saintly mother had one little vice: she sometimes drank just one cup too many.
But it did not appear so when we met, and kissed. Her cheeks were flushed only with joy. She was now in her mid-forties, but seemed older. Her hair was grizzled; perhaps that was why one did not see much of it, for she wore a veil over her head at nearly all times.
She questioned me closely about my studies and plans, and what she heard gratified her. I was going to make money and a reputation in Thagaste; then back to Carthage as a university lecturer and rhetor; then possibly higher things yet, such as Rome.
"And I will have very few expenses here," I said, "thanks to Romanianus. Premises, dinners. I'll be at his place much of the day."
That changed her mood. "I hope, however, my dear son, that you will shun his evil example. You know how that man lives?"
"Well, partly…"
"Two concubines, both slaves. He has given them fancy Greek names, Chloe and Phryne, but they are only Numidian slave girls, brought in from farms. He was already sleeping with the older one, Chloe, before he married, and he went on sleeping with her while he was married. Both his wife and his slave were pregnant at the same time. His wife died in childbirth – but I think partly of a broken heart. The legitimate son, Licentius, is now being brought up mainly by his second whore, the younger one, Phryne. And he is supposed to be a Christian! Ah, the difference between lawful marriage and concubinage, between a true-born child and a bastard!"
I felt myself going red in the face. "You seem very well informed about that household."
"One hears things, one hears things. Lucia sometimes meets Chloe and her bastard in the market-place… I hope, my dear son, you have avoided temptation in your years in Carthage."
"Mother, I have tried to be a philosopher. And I have become much more earnest about religion."
"That is excellent news!" she cried.
I did not tell her, what religion.

* * *

Thus I was established in my new life in Thagaste, a life based on lies. My school flourished; but my times with Anna were marred by sadness. They were short times; and she was cooped up, much of the day, in that back garden; and her "best friend" was now Chloe. The first time I visited her, after school, I found her with the slave woman, both of them working at a loom outside Chloe's cottage. Meanwhile the children played at their feet: my Adeodatus, and Chloe's daughter Silvia, nearly five years old. Silvia was pale olive-skinned and pretty, and she was being nice to Adeodatus, who obviously liked her.
When she saw me, Anna said a word or two to Chloe, and left her with the two children, and came away with me to her cottage. Within, I kissed her fervently. Then I said, "How do you find Chloe?"
Anna laughed. "She's nice. Romanianus still visits her sometimes, at night, though mostly now he sleeps with young Phryne. Chloe doesn't quite know what to make of me. But I think she soon will."
The next time I visited, Anna said: "Chloe understands now. First she thought I was really a lady, now she knows different. Today she said, in her funny Latin: 'You de same as me, Anna. Only, you belong Austino. You his slave?'
"I explained some of my story, and how you had bought me for eight solidi. 'Nearly same as slave,' she said, and gave me a hug, and kissed me."
"Kissed you? How dare she!"
"No, I liked it. She is a good-hearted girl. Nothing she has done was her fault, she was given no choice. And never any real love. She was dragged away from her slave parents in the country at ten years old, and at fifteen she was made to sleep with Romanianus. Now she is twenty-two, and she knows I'm two years younger, and she is pleased to offer me her protection and advice, like an elder sister. It's nice for me to have a woman friend; up to now, I have had very few. I am angry about how Chloe is treated. Even her little daughter is still a slave. You should speak to Romanianus about that… But Chloe's right about one thing, isn't she? 'You de same as me.' Well, I am, aren't I? You come to me for short times. I feel like a girl in a brothel, with two other whores. It's lucky for me that I am used by only one customer."
I was startled. This was the bitterest thing she had ever said to me. "I don't come to use you, I come to love you. You are not a whore, you are my wife, in all but name."
"No, Augustinus. If I were a wife, you wouldn't hide me, and you wouldn't prevent me from having children. Whores also use methods to prevent that. Not the same methods as we use, perhaps, but I don't know if they are any worse."
It was a painful situation, which I was powerless to alter, unless I defied my mother and my family, which I could not do.
At dinner with Romanianus, we two were sometimes alone. We were served by sixteen-year-old Phryne, another pretty brown girl, whom Romanianus openly leered at. Sometimes Phryne was followed about by Licentius, the legitimate son, a small fair boy of five years. And Romanianus was complacent, almost proud of the whole situation.
One afternoon I said to him: "You're not going to marry again?"
He laughed. "Well, some day, perhaps, for social reasons. But I'm in no hurry. Slave whores are more fun than wives. You can use them as you like, and they can't complain; and you can use as many as you like, and they can't act jealous."
Here I was facing something like my favorite sexual fantasy, but in reality; and in reality, I detested it. Manichees, grudgingly, allowed a man to have one woman, and strongly rejected polygamy. I decided I must try to reform Romanianus, by gradual and gentle persuasion. And perhaps, also, win him for the Manichee faith.
I was now preaching that faith to other friends in Thagaste, and with some success.

* * *

My old friend Varus was very quickly becoming a more intimate friend. His parents were Christians, but he was not yet baptised. He was a few months older than me, but to me he always seemed the younger: there was a diffidence and shyness about him which made me feel almost protective. We had very similar tastes, similar enthusiasms for literature. I soon felt I loved him, much as I loved Nebridius; but he was not as sceptical as Nebridius, not as managing, not as rich. I took to visiting him at his house, or walking with him in the spring evenings, all round our little town and into the country.
At school in Madaura, he had picked up more Greek than I had. Once, at twilight, as we sat in his garden and looked at the sunset, he gave me Plato's two epigrams on his young friend Aster, whose name meant “star,” both the happy one and the sad one; and he translated both into good verse in our own language:

Looking at stars, my Star? Ah, would that I might be
heaven, so I might gaze with so many eyes on thee.

Aster, our morning star, once light on the living you shed;
now gone from us, evening star, you shine among the dead.

I clasped his hand. “Varus, I love you! Not perhaps as Plato loved Aster, but with the pure love of friendship.”
“And I love you so also, Augustinus. I think it is the only good love...”
He did not like to talk about sex, but I gathered that, like Nebridius, he had tried it and disliked it. He felt the emotions involved were corrupt. That gave me the opening I was looking for. I told him of the liberating doctrines of Mani, and his beautiful scriptures, some texts of which I had hidden away in our school-room.
He was very curious. I lent him the texts, and the marvels and the rhetoric persuaded him.

* * *

Alypius was the most intelligent of my boy pupils. His parents were moderately wealthy catechumens; his father was a stern man, notably harsh to his dependants. His slaves were soundly thrashed; so was his son. But this treatment had merely sharpened Alypius's spirit. At fifteen and a half, he was a well-behaved boy, self-controlled; but his blue eyes gleamed with keen appreciation for rhetoric, and even philosophy. After classes, he lingered in the school-room to talk to me, and I soon came to admire him. I remembered what I had been like at his age – that age when I had first visited the Baths. One day Alypius told me, quietly and coolly, that he had given up sex.
“What!” I said. “You have had it already, and you have given it up?”
“Yes, sir. I had some experience a year ago, and I decided that what I felt was evil. So I have been continent since.”
“What evil did you feel?”
“Cruelty, sir. I went with a slave woman, and as soon as she was naked, I felt an enormous desire to whip her. When I told her, she laughed, and said she wouldn't object to a couple of strokes across the buttocks – my father had often given her more than that. So I lashed her, and saw her blood, and sinned. But I quickly repented. Where, oh where does such evil come from?”
I was amazed. Here was a boy with very much my own sexual problem, but to a worse degree. I enjoyed the idea of enslaving women, but I never had the least impulse to hurt them. Alypius was clearly ripe for the doctrines of Mani. When I cautiously imparted them to him, he accepted them at once.
“Ah, sir, with the help of the Father of Greatness, I will defy these demons, I will be chaste as long as I live!”

* * *

After a while – some months – I realized that I must use only the middle of the day for men friends, and must dedicate the evenings to Anna and my son. It was also better, usually, to have a quick dinner at home, mid-afternoon, with my mother, rather than a long dinner with my patron. That helped to keep my mother happy; then I could take the late afternoon and evening off, out of my home. I told my mother I was going out with men friends, but really I was going to Anna. I would return from her to my mother only well after sunset.
I had to do this, because on one occasion, Anna became rebellious to me. That evening, as the sun was going down, I went to her, and found her with Chloe, leaning against a mattress under the eaves of Chloe's cottage. Chloe was combing Anna's gold-brown hair, while Adeodatus and Silvia played nearby. All four of them were barefoot, and Anna was dressed in a plain tunic just like Chloe's.
I was shocked. “Anna, you are not a slave, to dress so!”
She gave me a strange smile. “Am I not a slave, my master? What am I, then? You control my whole life. At any time you can punish me more terribly than any slave under the whip: you know how. You have rights over our son, I have none... And you have all the time in the world, to spend with your great men friends. I am left all day with only one friend: my Chloe. I don't want to seem superior to her. This is one of her plain tunics I have borrowed, so that we can be slaves and sisters together. But, my master, take me now to my bed, and use me as your slave, just as you will.”
That aroused me, and I almost pulled her away and into her cottage. When we came to the bedroom, she laughed. “You like fables, my master? Then use this one. I am a freeborn Punic girl captured by bandits, and sold into a brothel in Thagaste, where there are also two Numidian girls, Chloe and Phryne. I have to give my body to any man who comes and pays. You have come and paid; and now you will take your fair-skinned slave whore.”
Immediately I was out of control, delivered up to my demons. I stripped her, and took her. When it was over, her mood changed, and she caressed me, and laughed softly. “I never aided in your little fables before, but this time I did, my dear, because it's not far off the truth. Also, this is not one of your permitted times, and you have completed inside me. You might make me pregnant!”
That was true, and I grew angry, and nearly slapped her, as a master should when his woman mutinies. Nearly I did, but not quite. Even then, I loved Anna too much to do her any harm.
She saw the movement of my hand. “Ah, my dear, beat me if you like! But hear me now. This is no fable. I think your present religion a bad one. We were both much happier when you were an orthodox Catholic. Why not go back to that? Then you could sin as much as you like with me, at all times of the month, and be pardoned in the end with a little water. There is really nothing wrong with your Lust, if it doesn't actually hurt anyone. And I know you'll never hurt anyone, you are too kind-hearted. You can't even hit me – whereas many men cheerfully beat their wives. Your little fantasies are part of your nature, they don't shock me, they just make you more vigorous... I'll be your slave in all of them – but – just love me! Oh, Augustinus, I am so lonely. I sometimes go out with Chloe, I walk to the market with her, just to be with some other people.”
This surprised me: I had never asked Anna how she passed her days; I just pictured her always in her cottage and that garden. “You don't go with Chloe dressed like her, I hope?”
“No, I wear my proper ornamented lady-like tunic and mantle. And we take the children with us, and an old slave woman. I still pretend, everywhere, to be a visiting lady from Utica. But that won't work much longer, I've seen the way some people look at me... Oh, I am so tired of being a dirty little secret!”
I kissed her, and promised to spend more time with her. But the basic situation remained unaltered.
And I remained faithful to my Manichee practices; and Anna did not become pregnant.

* * *

In the spring of that year, when we had been in Thagaste about five months, I had a serious talk with Romanianus. For once, I was having dinner with him, just the two of us. As usual, we were being served by his girl Phryne.
As she left the room, he chuckled. “Not bad, is she? But not as pretty as your girl Anna. Anna! Has it occurred to you, my friend, how it is your mother hasn't yet discovered about her?”
“We don't discuss your visiting relative.”
“You'd better not! The fact is, Tinus, that story is dead. It never worked with my relations, and their winks and suggestions showed me how to change it. I now tell everyone that I have a third concubine, a pretty, fair-skinned free girl from Utica named Anna. That story is being believed around town. I'm sure your mother has heard it.”
I was startled. I wasn't sure how to take this; or how Anna would. But then, perhaps she knew already. These days, I sensed that she did not tell me her whole mind. Chloe was her real confidante; and she spent most of her time with her or with our little son.
“Come,” he said, “we should have thought up that one earlier. It's the only way, if you want to keep her still hidden, and living at my house. Don't think I would really touch her, my dear fellow. Can't say she's not tempting, left alone there at night, so soft, so beautiful, and I go to the other cottage close by. But no, I know she's yours, and she bars her cottage door every night, anyway. I haven't pushed on her door, it is Chloe has told me about the bar... But I am not possessive about my women. If you fancy Chloe, or even Phryne, you are welcome to their charms.”
“My dear patron,” I said, “I thank you for your kind offer; but no. My way of life – well, for some time now I have been strictly observing a certain philosophy. Come now, Romanianus: I want to speak to you for your own good. Forgive me for preaching to an older man. But – aren't you ever ashamed... of the things you have done?”
He laughed. “Not about the girls, not directly. After all, God made them for that sport.” Then he turned more serious. “But I am not a heartless beast. I – I do feel strong guilt for the way I behaved to my poor young wife. She died soon after childbirth – but I think she had lost the will to live, when she found out about my adultery. I will never forget that; and I find it hard to forgive myself.”
“Now,” I said, “ let me give you an excellent medicine for guilt. Of course there is evil in you; it is in all of us. But that is not our fault...”
And I expounded to him the basics of the Manichee creed. He was utterly astonished. “I thought evil sprang from Original Sin...”
“Not so much original sin, but an original defeat of the substance Good by the substance Evil...”
It took a long time to convince Romanianus. But he was not merely a debauchee. He was a cultured and thoughtful man. He began to behave better. I got him quickly to free his little daughter Silvia. He would not at first free Chloe, but he made provision in his Will for her freedom at his death. Anna and Chloe were both very pleased.
In the end, toward the end of our stay in Thagaste, he was completely won over to the faith of Mani. He freed Chloe. And suddenly he said he was giving up his sins, would beget no more children – would not even go to bed with his concubines! (I have my doubts about this now. From time to time, he has fallen. But at least the man is trying to be good, and philosophical.)

* * *

But soon after my first serious talk with Romanianus, a dreadful quarrel burst out between me and my mother. My new religion was harder to hide than Anna. I did not go to church, I did not celebrate Easter. And at last she heard complaints from the families of Varus and Alypius. And one day at dinner in our home, she challenged me to tell the truth.
I admitted it. “Mother, I am a follower of Mani. He is the great prophet, who has revealed to me the true kind of Christianity.” And I explained some of the leading doctrines.
She pushed her plate away. 'This - this is vile! Augustinus, I cannot bear to stay in the same house with you. You are heading for destruction, and like a demon you are dragging other young men down with you.”
I tried to calm her, but nothing would. She got up and went to her room. The whole household was dismayed. Lucia said to me: “Oh, young master, what have you done to Mistress?”
“Nothing. She is doing it to herself.”
“It's religion, isn't it? Child, child, never let religion trap you into being cruel.”
“I won't be cruel, nurse. But I have to get away from this. Tell her, if she asks, that I am going to spend this night at a friend's house.”
I spent that night, of course, for once with Anna in her cottage, and it was good to sleep again side by side. But it was not a very joyful night. Our little son, in his cot, woke crying from a nightmare, and Anna had to get up and comfort him. He clung to her in terror, as if he were afraid he might lose her.
I did not return to my home till after classes next day. I feared more explosions – but no, my mother was restored to calm, and consented to dine with me. She had had a dream, she said, showing that one day “I would be standing where she stood.”
From that day on, she lived in the family house with me, confident that one day I would return to the orthodox faith. And she has been proved right! I do not yet understand all the problems, I am not yet baptized, but I am in a fair way to be. My dear mother: for all her severities, she has always had my deepest interests at heart; my interests, both in this world and the next.

* * *

Later that year, it occurred to me that Adeodatus was speaking perfectly – when he was just three years old. Not too young to start learning his first letters. I procured some wooden squares, and painted on them all the letters of the alphabet, with many duplicates. Then we began to play a game with him: I put a P before an A, and so forth, and said the sounds. He got the idea almost instantly. “PA!” he cried, and “MA!” What was more, he pointed to me, and to Anna.
Anna was overjoyed. “Oh, he is so clever!” The next evening, as we sat on the grass, playing with the squares, she said to me: “I will continue this game, my dear, while you are away.”
I was surprised. “But you – do you know the sounds of these characters?”
She laughed. “Look.” She took several letters, she moved them around, and made the phrase:
TV ES DOMINVS MEVS

“You are my master...” I read. “Anna, how...?”
“My dear, since you have taught the child, you have also taught me.”
I was open-mouthed. “You are much quicker than the child, then!”
Merriment was in her eyes. Then she burst out laughing, and embraced me. “My dear, I must not deceive you any longer. I knew the whole alphabet before. My father taught me.”
“Why didn't you tell me that?”
“Well, you never asked. Augustinus, I think many men are like you. You don't ask a lot of questions, you don't notice little things. We women have sharper eyes, quicker tongues. Chloe, now: I don't think I have many secrets from her, or she from me. I can say 'I love you' now in Numidian, and she can say it in Punic.”

* * *

Our second year in Thagaste was the first of the reign of Valentinianus II, a child really governed by his powerful mother, the Empress Justina. They controlled Africa and Italy, with the other parts of the Empire under related princes. Our imperial court was now usually fixed at Milan. I began to think of my world, my career, as a ladder with three rungs: Carthage, Rome, Milan. If I excelled in Carthage, I might move up to Rome; then possibly even to Milan, and imperial glory. But I still needed to work for at least one year at Thagaste. My students were good boys, and their parents paid up promptly. I was doing well for money. And I had learnt to be quieter about my Manicheism. This was made easier by the fact that there were no Elect beggars in Thagaste, so we believers did not have to make ourselves conspicuous by sending them their special food.
So I began the year feeling happy. Anna seemed contented, devoted to our growing son, and friendly with Chloe and other slaves of Romanianus. I spent about three hours every evening with Anna and Adeodatus; but they were only one part of my life. All the morning and early afternoon I was in class or with my friends; partly the same thing, since I saw both Alypius and Varus in class, and then walked with them before dinner. We really loved each other, all three. Ah, the loving friendship of intelligent men! My friends had this great advantage over Anna: they were highly educated, she was not. They read poets, philosophers, while Anna knew only the alphabet. With my friends I could pour out my soul, talk religion, philosophy; with Anna, sweet as she was, it was only love-making and small chit-chat about the household and the market-place. Varus especially seemed half of my soul; Anna was only a sweet freedgirl whom I protected.
And then suddenly Varus was struck down with a dangerous fever. And while he was unconscious, his father had him baptized.
I was in great distress and fear, but then Varus seemed better. I went to him, and joked about his baptism – which, to us Manichees, meant nothing.
He looked at me coldly. “If you want to be my friend, Augustinus, never talk to me like that again. I am a baptized orthodox Christian, and I mean to remain so, live or die.”
I was shocked, but I told myself that he was not yet really in his right senses. “I'll visit you later, Varus, when you're better,” I said.
But that time never came. He relapsed, and in a few days, was dead.
They let me see his body, after his soul was gone. That image is fixed and dreadfully vivid in my mind for ever.
After that, I walked about the city aimlessly, alone. I hated life, and everything in it. I hated the sun and moon, because now he could not see them. And I looked at pretty little children, and thought, one day you will all look like that...
My bitter grief lasted many months. Anna found this strange. One evening in our cottage, she said: “Augustinus, he was not a parent, a wife, or a child. I think I only felt grief like this when my father died. Then the whole world, even the bright sun, seemed to turn dark grey. I hated flowers, because he could not see them --”
“You, too?” I said, startled. She was like me in that, then.
“Yes. I know I would be destroyed if – if anything happened to you, who are half my soul, or to our little one. But friends... I have had so few friends. I would be very sorry if Chloe died, but I would not be destroyed. Ah, you men, I try to understand you, but I think I don't. Perhaps you are that way because you are equals: I have nobody who is my equal, everyone I know is either above me or below me... but at least, this sorrow shows how good you are, my master, that you can love so. Death is bitter, and there is no consolation for it. Except this one: to know that other people have suffered the same, or worse. I, for my father; and I suppose millions of people everywhere, in all countries, in all times, every day.”
I was startled again. “Anna, in your simple words you have just said what the rhetors have put into a famous line of verse: 'It is consolation to the wretched to know they've companions in pain'.”
She put her arms around me, and hugged me, rocking me to and fro in her embrace, and kissing me on the head, as a mother may do to a child. And I think that was the best consolation of all.

* * *

By the Vintage Vacation – September – Adeodatus was four years old, reading well and even beginning to write. A very bright boy, he was always eager for knowledge. I remembered the painful days of my early schooling, when a brutal master beat the knowledge of letters into me. This must never happen to my dear boy: as far as possible, I would educate him at home, and teach him grammar myself. But what should he read? I procured a copy of Aesop in simple Latin, and soon he delighted in these little stories. But now another problem began to loom: religion.
One day Anna and I were gazing at our boy, as he played in the garden with Silvia. Anna said: “Augustinus – I hope you will not fill our boy with your complicated Manichee fables. Better the ordinary Christian scriptures! You tell me those are written in a very simple style.”
“But they are full of errors!”
“So are many stories, if you take them by the letter. These tales of Aesop, for example: you know they never actually happened... You have told me something of the old Jewish books: the forbidden fruit, the great flood, the boy Joseph and his brothers. Surely those are at least exciting stories? And nowadays necessary to be known by an y man of culture?”
I admitted that she was right. “But religion is not just a matter of stories and texts. What are we to tell the boy, when he asks about God?”
“He has already heard that name, from Silvia, from the slaves; and he has asked me. Have no fear, my lord, I will not make him a follower of Isis! Except in so far as Isis is compassion, kindness – I am teaching him to be kind, and he takes that lesson easily, he will not hurt little animals, even insects. But I will not use the name of Isis. I will tell him that a great God made this world, which I do truly believe. Isis is only one face of God – the kindly face. Don't give him any religion more complicated than that, at least for now. He is a good boy, very loving, and I will go on leading him in that way. Love, surely, is one face of God.”
“True, Anna. Both Manichees and Catholics agree, that God is Love.”
And so we left it, for the time being.
During that vacation, I did not have to teach in the mornings. My mother was becoming curious that I spent so much time with Romanianus, even when I had no classes; but I told her I needed distraction, which was partly true. I was still grieving for Varus. Sometimes I would accompany my patron in the mornings about town, and occasionally we went to the Baths. He joked with me about my early encounter with Chrestus; but now, I am glad to say, he was less ribald in his manner.
One early afternoon we went there, and in that same tepid pool I asked him what had become of Chrestus, whom we now never saw.
“Oh, he bought himself out. He got many tips – you can guess how! Now he is in the grain business, he deals in the market for landowners with wheat to sell or send to Rome. He never comes near this place of his early shame: he is a respectable freedman.”
“Very proper, too,” I said.
After we had visited the various pools, and felt thoroughly clean and refreshed, we went back to Romanianus's house. And then, from the whole household, we heard momentous news.
In our absence, my mother had come visiting.

* * *

Here I begin the scenes I did not see. For the first, my witness is Lucia.
I had told my mother that I spent every evening with friends. Now she set the old janitor to watch my movements. The way to Romanianus was left along our lane; the way to all my other friends, to the right.
After a few evenings, the janitor reported: “He always goes out and comes back on the left.”
Then my mother questioned Lucia. “These women of Romanianus: do you see them sometimes?”
“Oh yes, mistress. I've seen young Phryne a few times in the market-place. Much more often the other two, Chloe and Anna. I've met them and chatted with them. Anna doesn't say much, but Chloe told me they both live in little cottages at the end of Romanianus' s big garden. They sometimes bring their kids with them, Chloe's girl and Anna's little boy.”
“This Anna... What is she like?”
“Very pretty, very fair, a bit younger than Chloe. Dresses like a lady, and talks like one too, though I suppose she can't be one, really. Her boy is a nice little chap.”
“How old?”
“About four, I'd say, mistress.”
“About four!” My mother knew that Anna had been in Thagaste less than two years. This was strange...
When she knew I was going with my patron to the Baths, she fortified herself with a cup of wine. Then she sallied forth with Lucia. 'Perhaps we can meet this...pretty lady,” she said.
My nurse had no idea what she had in her mind.
“Romanianus not at home?” said my mother, when she arrived. “Well, he is an old friend. I am sure he will not object if I stroll through his courtyards.”
The janitor could not object to that, so my mother walked in with Lucia. They reached the rear garden, with the cottages. By one cottage were Chloe and Phryne, with Romanianus's two children; before the other, Anna sat on a stool, watching Adeodatus. He was playing with a writing tablet, on which he was scribbling some letters.
“That's the one,” said Lucia; and Mother went up to Anna. Anna rose, at sight of the respectable widow. Adeodatus stopped writing.
“I have heard about you,” said Mother. “You are indeed good-looking. Are you his slave?”
“Whose slave?” said Anna. It was an unfortunate remark; my mother noticed the nuance immediately.
“I am not quite sure, my girl. The common rumor is, that you belong to Romanianus.”
“I am no man's slave,” said Anna. “I am free.”
“Freeborn?”
“No, lady; I was freed by my father, long ago.”
“That is your child,” said Mother. It was not a question: Adeodatus was sidling up to Anna. “Quite a lad. You must have brought him with you, when you came here with – whoever it was.”
Adeodatus dropped his writing-tablet. It fell toward Mother, and she picked it up. “Clever boy...” she began. Then she stiffened. Adeodatus had written:

AVGVS
TINVS
PATER

“Oh, lord God,” she said, and clutched at her heart. But she did not drop the tablet. Instead, a moment later, she gave it to Anna.
“Here. See what your boy has written. It is the truth, isn't it? Why, he even looks like my son. I remember how Augustinus looked, at the same age. The same black hair, the same pale cheeks, the fine eyes. But the eye-color is different. My boy's eyes are brown; this one has grey eyes, like you. So. How long have you been his concubine?”
“Lady,” said Anna, “you must be the lady Monnica, of whom I have heard so much, and so much good. If this is the first news you have of me, I am sorry: I did not want it so, I did not want to be hidden... Your good son Augustinus has loved me for...five years now. And I love him. I have had no other man other than him, never, and never will. I was a virgin, sixteen years old, when your son saved me from a shameful fate. My stepfather was trying to – to make me act as a prostitute --”
“So you became my son's prostitute instead.”
“Only if it be prostitution to love with your whole heart and soul. He is the best man in the world, so kind, so good... Lady, I will tell you a truth, which you may like. In all the five years we have been together – three years in Carthage, nearly two years here – Augustinus has had no other woman than me. So he says, and I believe him. So perhaps I saved him from worse things, as he did me. I belong to him only. Ask others in this household: they will tell you the same thing. Romanianus has not touched me – he would not dare to. Your son can be jealous... But he is kind to me, so kind! And I would die for him.”
“Ah, a faithful pair! But you will never marry him!”
“Lady Monnica, I know that. When he marries some noble lady – as he surely will, some day – I will be cast out, and he will keep the boy, so I will also lose my son. Oh, I wish I were his slave – then maybe he could keep me on, if only as his slave! I would sell myself to him, but the law does not permit that... So, I will be cast out. Only – only I hope it will not be too soon. Because – because I love this little one...”
Anna was close to tears, but she checked herself. “Lady, you too have a mother's heart! You must know how I feel. And I have not been a bad thing for your son. He knew worse women before me.”
“I presume you are a Manichee!”
“Oh no, my lady! Anything but that! That is Augustinus's worst error. I wish he would go back to the orthodox faith, and I have told him so, again and again. If Augustinus had been a Manichee when we first came together, this little one would never have been born. You know, Manichees detest children. I think they detest life itself!”
My mother was slightly mollified. “You are a Christian, then? Orthodox?”
A lie might have helped Anna, but she did not lie. “No, lady, I am of those who worship the goddess Isis. But I believe in one great God, and I believe in mercy and goodness and love. I will bring up my child, as far as I can, to be an orthodox Christian. I have already told Augustinus, that he must not corrupt the boy with Manichee fables; and he has consented to that.”
“So, a pagan,” said Mother. “I do not know which is worse.”
After that, the details were filled in. My mother questioned Anna closely about the past five years, and Anna gave frank explanations, including the facts of support from Nebridius and Romanianus.
“And what is to happen next, when he goes to Carthage?”
“I suppose he will take me with him... Lady, do you wish to enter my cottage --”
“No. What does it matter where you sleep with him?”
And that was the end of it. Lucia, who had heard everything, managed to kiss Adeodatus. She wanted to kiss Anna too, but didn't dare to. And so the lady and her slave went home.

* * *

When I got back from the Baths, I went to the cottage, and found Anna in tears, being comforted by Chloe and Phryne, while the children milled around, distressed. Anna recovered, and told me what had happened. “I am sorry if I said anything wrong. I didn't know how much you wanted me to say, and I'm not used to lying. So I just told the truth.”
I took her hand. “I think you did very well, my dear. I will go to her now.”
And so I did. Lucia managed to catch me first, in the front courtyard. “Master, Master Tinus, I like your girl! So honest, so decent, so good! But Mistress does not think so...”
She didn't. It was not a pleasant dinner. She was very angry. “You have lied to me for five years. First your heresy, then this! You are a lecher, as your father was before he was baptized.”
“I am sorry,” I said. “I tried not to be. When I was a boy, I used to pray to God to give me chastity --”
She laughed, but not pleasantly. “I overheard you once, in your room. 'O Lord, give me chastity and continence, but not yet'! Well, God heard that prayer!”
“Well then, yes, I am a lecher. I wish I could be something better. I am not even a good Manichee --”
“There are no good Manichees. That is the only point in the girl's favor, that she is not one.”
I felt myself growing angry, but I restrained myself. “Mother, there are many good things about Anna. If only she were freeborn, there is no other woman I would want for a wife.”
“Wife! Do not use that word to me. She is your concubine, not your wife --”
“It is not so terrible to have a concubine, if you have no other, and no wife. Some of your orthodox bishops allow men who have a single concubine to be accepted in church.”
“Not our bishop! And this woman is slaveborn, and a pagan. You should give her up.”
“I cannot. If you dislike the secrecy of my situation, you should allow me to bring Anna to live here.”
“I cannot prevent that, since you are the master here. But I would not remain here, in a house of sin. I would take refuge elsewhere.”
So there we were: no change in our situation, except that now at last my mother knew. For a week, the atmosphere at home was terrible; then I could bear it no more. I left the family home, and moved into the cottage with Anna and my son. I was utterly determined now to leave Thagaste at the end of the year. I wrote to Nebridius; he invited me to stay with him, indefinitely, with Anna and Adeodatus. His mother would make us all welcome, and there would be rooms for us all in his pillared garden courtyard.
This was excellent news. I could certainly work well there and from there. Anna would be comfortable, she would be with people she already knew, and would no longer have to associate with slave concubines. It was a place where Adeodatus could grow up a gentleman.
I began saying farewells. Alypius said he would like to follow me, and be my student in Carthage, when he was old enough and his father would allow it. This pleased me very much. But I found him unyielding in his opposition to Anna. “The way to God,” he said, “is a way away from women. Not even a wife! That is all compromise with this world of demons. Master Augustinus, give up your lust. It can be done.”
I once introduced him to Anna, but he remained coldly polite. When he had gone, Anna said: “That boy has the eyes of a fanatic. He will never rest till he sees you a member of the Elect, or something just as dreadful on the orthodox side. You should beware of him, Augustinus.”
“Ah, Anna, you do not understand such purity. He is my very good friend.”
“He is the wrong kind of eunuch. Nebridius, now – he doesn't like sex either, but he's nice.”
Once, before we left, I brought Adeodatus, without Anna, to the family home. This went well. The boy charmed everyone – his young uncle and aunts, Lucia, Lucilla, even at last my mother. “My grandson,” she said, stroking his hair. “This is the one good thing you have got out of this sordid business. A Gift from God, yes, certainly. Make sure you bring him up a Catholic – or endure a mother's curses.”
Well, I did not have to endure a mother's curses. And I decided not to endure an embarrassing leave-taking.
The very day my classes ended, with the help of Romanianus I crept away with Anna and my son, to the riverboat. That cold December afternoon, my patron and Chloe (now a freedwoman) were the only ones to farewell us. It was an emotional parting between Anna and Chloe, with embraces and endearments in Numidian, in which my son joined, for he had a quick ear for languages.
“Go' bless you, Anna,” said Chloe. “Little sister, goo'bye and good luck, and take care of your kid, and also Massa Austino!”
“I will, Chloe,” said Anna. “And may all blessings follow you, and Silvia, and your master.”
So I sailed for Carthage, without seeing my mother or saying goodbye. I gave her the slip – as I was to do one more time.
But she caught up with me in the end.


# 6


Now I am going to pass quickly over nearly eight years of my life: more than six years in Carthage, and a year and a half in Rome. Nothing very dramatic happened in this time, except that I won some competitions in oratory, and my career was thereby advanced; and in Rome I nearly died.
I did not know it, but a time of great sorrow was approaching.

* * *

In Carthage, my career as a university teacher of rhetoric prospered from the beginning. Those Wreckers were a nuisance sometimes, but I had learnt a trick from Quintilius, and placed strong students by the classroom entrance. That usually kept them out. And as the years went on, from my students' fees I saved a tidy sum of money – enough to travel, when the time came, to Italy. And Nebridius was a steady friend, his house delightful, his mother kind.
And Anna was happy. I think these were the happiest years of her life. Placida treated her as a lady, and often invited her to her own table. This was a family at peace with itself, notably in matters of religion. Ostensibly, they were all pagans; but Placida knew that her son was seeking for Truth. “He hasn't found it yet,” she used to say, “but when he does, we will probably all convert – to whatever he chooses. I would like to be of the same religion as my son. The servants will follow my lead: we are none of us fanatics here.”
Placida had one servant who was very useful to us: ma freedwoman in her thirties named Elissa, who spoke Punic. She became Anna's friend and as they talked Punic together, Adeodatus listened, and so picked up the language. I thought Elissa a more suitable companion for Anna than Chloe had been. With Elissa for escort, Anna was able to go about Carthage freely and without fear, anywhere she pleased. A few times, in those years, she visited her mother. I think she also went to the Temple of Isis, but I did not enquire about that. She never mentioned that to me, and I know that she never took Adeodatus with her.
In those years, I heard often from my mother by letter. She made no attempt to get me married. She was ambitious for me in a worldly way, but she also nursed that Christian ambition, which sees marriage as a second best to high promotion in the Church. In any case, my Manichee religion was an effective bar, at this time, to a good Catholic marriage.
But that religion of mine was beginning to slip. I heard Catholic attacks on Manichee doctrine, and my Manichee friends seemed to me to have no effective replies. Worst of all was the impossibility of their cosmology, their astronomy. They told me to have patience, that in due time one Faustus, a Manichee “bishop”, would come to Carthage and resolve all my doubts. I clung to this assurance, for I did not want to give up the basic doctrine, which absolved me from the guilt of my sins.
Apart from these doubts, my life was pleasant. Adeodatus was a joy to us, one that increased almost every day. No longer a small child, in our Carthage days he grew to be ten years old. He was reading now everything he could get his hands on; sometimes he read aloud to his mother, and Anna liked that. They were often together when I was busy with my classes. We kept our bargain about his religion, and as time went on he himself began to lead to the Catholic side. I did not now mind that. It pleased Nebridius to teach him some Greek. The boy began to compare the first chapters of Genesis in the Latin and Greek versions. Then one day he asked me if he could learn Hebrew.
“Father,” he said, “I hear it is similar to Punic. And I would like to know the original words with which God created the heavens and the earth, and said 'Let there be Light'.”
I was delighted by his noble ambition, and I found a Jew who taught him that alphabet, and gave him lessons in the holy language. Adeodatus picked up Hebrew very quickly – he told me it was very similar to Punic. “Father,” he said, “why don't you learn some yourself? It is a beautiful language, full of force, the language of God himself, and of all humans before Babel. Or you could first learn Punic from Mother, and then easily go on to Hebrew.”
I was delighted with his abilities, but I told him I did not have his facility for languages, and besides, I was too busy perfecting my oratory in Latin. After a while, I stopped his Hebrew lessons, and sent the Jew packing, as I did not want my son contaminated with Jewish heresies.
I often heard Adeodatus speaking Punic with Anna; when they did that, she called him “Nathanael.” But when I approached, they always switched into Latin, so as not to exclude me from the conversation. On one such occasion Anna laughed, and said:
“Augustinus – you know, our dear boy can say 'I love you' in five languages – Latin, Greek, Punic, Hebrew, and Numidian! And in every one, he means it.”
I kissed them both. “Let our loves be never divided.”
“Amen, Father,” said our son.

* * *

After a year or so, Alypius appeared in Carthage. He was not at first officially my student – his father had forbidden that; but he dropped in on some of my lectures. I discovered, to my dismay, that he was a backslider from Manicheism: he was no longer sure what he believed, and his father was pushing him back to the orthodox faith. After a while, he persuaded his father that he was orthodox, and after that, he got permission to join my class.
In due course, I reinfected him with Manichee doctrines. One thing he never wavered about: his devotion to total continence. When he went to the house of Jovianus, he was highly impressed by the ascetic Elect.
But at this time, for a while, Alypius had one distinct fault: he was addicted to the chariot-races in the hippodrome. This was an enormous waste of his time, especially as he was now studying law as well as rhetoric. I once asked him what he liked about the chariots, which always bored me.
“Do you really care who wins, Alypius – the Blues or the Greens?”
“Well...not really. But I do enjoy the accidents.”
“Oh, Alypius! But isn't that also – a kind of lust?”
He admitted it; and one day he told me, with his characteristic cold firmness, that he had given up the races for ever. And he kept his word.
After some years, he went ahead of me to Rome, to further his career in law. But just before he sailed, he made an important suggestion to me.
“Your son,” he said, “how old is he now?”
“Eight years.”
“Well, have you thought, Augustinus, of making him one of your heirs? That is possible now, by a recent law. You must make a Will, of course. But that is a good idea for anyone. Life, after all, is uncertain, at any age.”
I thought of Varus, and knew he was right. I made the Will as he advised me. I left a good legacy to Anna; and Adeodatus was now, for most purposes, legitimized.
When I wrote to my mother about this, she was very pleased. For she had not lost her love for her grandson. “Now he really belongs to our family,” she replied.
I did not think of the further implications, till later.

* * *

Faustus, the Manichee “bishop,” proved a total disappointment. I met him at the house of Jovianus, and held many conversations with him. He was a charming man, very literary, but when it came to science, he knew nothing whatever – and very honestly admitted it. So from that time onward – my twenty-ninth year – I was at heart no longer a Manichee. I told my friends secretly – especially Nebridius – that I was really a sceptic, that I did not know what to believe.
“That makes two of us,” said Nebridius, smiling.
Still, the Manichee network was useful to me. By this time I was famous, as possibly the best orator in Carthage, and I was eager to go on to Rome. The Wreckers were starting to annoy me again, and I had been told that Roman students were much better behaved. So I began to put out feelers, and to get letters of introduction to Roman Manichees. I was going to follow Alypius, and of course I would take Anna and Adeodatus with me.
For the last three years, it had been my custom to visit my mother in Thagaste for a couple of weeks in the Vintage Vacation, leaving Anna behind; and the last two years, I had taken Adeodatus with me. On the last such occasion, I had mentioned my Roman plans. Possibly I would sail next Spring.
So now, in January, Mother invited herself to come and stay in Carthage with Nebridius and Placida. She arrived with a small train of servants: Lucia, Lucilla – and Chrestus! For Chrestus had just married Lucilla, and entered our service as an estate-manager. He was a manly man, and had quite forgotten our early encounter in the Baths; for which I thanked God.
Mother's purpose at this time was to dissuade me from going to Rome – or, if I must go, to take her with me. As I was also taking Anna, I knew that I could not bear this. I arranged to travel with Anna, Adeodatus – and Lucia. For my old nurse almost insisted that I take her to serve my little family, and as I was her master, I was able to order that.
January to April... It was well that Nebridius's house was large. For now my mother was indeed, at last, living under the same roof as Anna. It was highly embarrassing: Placida could not invite both of them to her table, so Anna now had to eat with Elissa.
Whenever they met, as they could not help meeting sometimes, Anna was highly respectful to my mother. But Mother could never extend a hand of friendship to my girl. She was always cold to my “pagan concubine.” I could see that she regarded Anna as unclean: she avoided any bodily contact with her, even the least brushing together of clothes.
I spoke to Placida once, alone with her in the garden court. “How is this, lady Placida? After all, Anna is a good girl, and respectful. And many Christians have concubines.”
Placida smiled. “I have suggested as much, but lady Monnica is beyond reason on that matter. I hope she would behave better if you married a wife, but I am not sure even of that. Have you ever seen two bitches quarrelling over a bone? You are the bone, Augustinus, or you and your son... I will not go on with the comparison. But you take my meaning.”
“But Anna does not quarrel at all! What can she do to make things better?”
“Abject abasement, and Christianity. Nothing less. Then your mother might tolerate her, as she tolerates her Christian slaves.”
I reported this conversation to Anna. She said: “Lady Placida is right. But I cannot do it, Augustinus. It would violate the truth in me – and would you want that?”
“No,” I said. “But I hope one day you will be persuaded to the true religion.”
“Whatever that is... Of the two you have held, Augustinus, I cannot be persuaded to either.”
In April, when the time came for me to sail, I had to escape by a ruse. I told Mother I was sailing later; I had to wait and farewell a friend who was leaving in another ship, with a different wind. So Mother spent that night praying at a shrine of St Cyprian, not far from the harbor. And in that night, Anna, I, Adeodatus and Lucia took ship, farewelled only by Nebridius.
“This won't be the end of it,” said my friend, smiling. “Enjoy yourself in Italy while you can, Augustinus. Sooner or later, she will follow you.”
The wind blew fair; and in darkness we sailed from Carthage.

* * *

It was an easy voyage, of only a few days, and Adeodatus and Anna loved the experience of the sea. It was a vivid blue by day, a sublime black by night, and by night the stars blazed over the blackness. In the evenings, we saw one blue star, very bright, rising out of the water in the east. The sailors said it was Vega.
“Star of the sea,” said Anna.
“In Heaven, from what I have heard,” I said, “the orthodox declare there will be no more sea.”
She laughed. “I might have guessed that. But land cannot be without sea, as life cannot be without death.”
Death. In Rome, I was to come very near to that.
When we arrived at the great city, we stayed, as I had arranged, with a rich Manichee. At once, Alypius came there to greet us. We two were very pleased to see each other again. His work in law had prospered. But once again, he said ruefully, he had fallen into sin.
“What, sex?” I said.
“No. Gladiators!”
Some friends, one day, had taken him against his wishes to the arena. At first, he would not look. But then he heard a huge shout, and opened his eyes – and saw a man fallen and bleeding. After that, he was addicted – for a whole year. But once again, he had repented.
“It is evil, Augustinus. My lust is always for blood. But, no more! Not in any way! No sex, no blood! You shall be my guide – I will follow you, in whatever path you take.”
But immediately, I was not taking any path. Before we could even explore Rome, I fell ill of a fierce fever.
It was a dreadful time. Lucia and Anna nursed me constantly. Alypius came once. I said to him, “If I die, take care of my family, my dear friend!”
“I will,” he said. “Of course, your son and your slave must go back to Africa, to your mother. I can arrange that.”
“And Anna?”
“She can go where she likes. She is free, and adult. She will have money from your Will.”
Then I saw the full horror of our situation. If I died, Adeodatus would go to my mother, and my mother would drive Anna away. She would lose both me and her son.
Anna knew this too. But she was calm. “You are not going to die, my darling.”
“How – how do you know?”
“I prayed to my Lady. And last night she sent me a dream. In my dream, I knew it was many years hence. I was like a disembodied eye in a great building. I saw you sitting above a great crowd of people, Augustinus, sitting on a throne. You were an old man, but still vigorous. My dear, I believe this dream. You will not die young.”
“Did you see yourself, or Adeodatus, in this dream?”
“No, my dear, I did not. I saw only you.”
That night, the fever was worse. I thought of Varus. No! I would not be baptized! Useless, I had no faith... I thought of Anna. A wild idea came half-formed into my head. I would marry her, and that would protect her... Then I slipped into unconsciousness.
Next morning, I awoke much refreshed, and in a few days I was quite well. I forgot my delirious notions. I was not sure about Anna's dream – but after all, it might not have been inspired by the demon Isis. Some good angel might have sent it. In that case, I need not fear an early death, and I could pursue my search for true religion without anxiety.

* * *

In Mother's next letter to me, she said she was planning to follow me to Italy, probably with my brother Navigius and two of my male cousins. The young men might find advancement through my influence. I kept her at bay for a while, writing that my influence was not as yet great.
But all the people near to me seemed to be drifting north to Italy. Romanianus about this time went to Milan, to settle some property problems at the Imperial court. Nebridius wrote that he would like to be with me, and might sail with my mother. So there might soon be a whole colony of us Africans together, at Rome or Milan. I viewed this prospect with mixed feelings. My mother – again together with Anna!
Rome proved rather a disappointment. Adeodatus found it more exciting than I did. I admired the famous places and buildings, and met dignified senators; but Rome was now the capital of the Empire only in name. And the Roman students had a bad habit of not paying. I could see my fund of solidi shrinking...
But after more than a year, I heard exciting news. The city of Milan, the city of the Emperor, wanted a new Professor of Rhetoric. I put my name forward to the Prefect of Rome, Symmachus, a great pagan senator, but a courteous and impartial man. Symmachus gave me a test oration to deliver, which I did. I presume he also tested other candidates.
A few days later, I heard from him. He had chosen me!
We travelled to Milan in the autumn, in the ninth year of the Emperor, by special privilege using the Imperial posting-service. Alypius came with us, almost entirely so that he could be with me. Ah, I have had such good friends...


# 7


Success. I have it now, in full measure.
Here I am at last. I am Professor and Public Orator in Milan, and I tread the vestibule of the Emperor. I am in my thirty-first year. Surrounded by friends and patrons, there are almost no limits to my prospects. I, who was born a humble boy in Numidia, may one day govern a province.
So, I should be happy. Instead, I am suffering the bitterest grief of my life since the death of Varus.
This, too, is a kind of death. I feel that I have lost half my heart. And the remnant is torn and wounded and bleeding.

* * *

My time together with Anna in Milan divides into two periods: some seven months before my mother arrived, some three months after that. I remember the first period, now, as a time which was fairly happy.
We arrived in early October, in delightful weather, and a feeling of fruitfulness everywhere. Anna and I were both just under thirty years old, and Anna, to my eyes, seemed as young and as beautiful as when I had first known her. But now, in addition, we had this handsome son, fully twelve years old, a joy to our hearts. And for me Lucia, and Alypius too, were a great comfort.
The city had provided me, its Professor, with free accommodation: a large house near the south gate, staffed with public slaves. There were the usual courtyards, many spare rooms, and at the back a fine garden equipped with marble seats and fruit trees, mostly figs. That first day, our son was scampering about the house, accompanied by Alypius and Lucia.
Then I told Anna what I had decided about the bedrooms. There was so much space that we could have one each. Adeodatus and Anna were to have bedrooms on either side of mine. “Let us,” I said, “be truly aristocratic, Imperial.”
We stood in the courtyard contemplating the three rooms. Anna's cheek was pale. “So we will no longer share one room, one bed. Even in Rome... Why is this, my lord?”
“You know, my dear, I have left the Manichees. I am inclining again to the orthodox Catholic faith.”
“I know, and I am very glad. Surely, we can now do more natural, cleaner things.”
“Yes, cleaner. So now I cannot use some Manichee devices. Therefore – I can come to you only at certain times of your month. For the rest, I must contain myself.”
Tears trembled in her eyes. She saw the implication. “Would it be so terrible, now, if I were to bear you another child? Perhaps a girl-child, a little baby you would not need to acknowledge, one I could keep?”
“It would be – inconvenient. Also, I am trying to train myself in chastity. This will be a first step.”
“Augustinus, my love, my master, have mercy! Does the act itself matter? I can do without that as easily as you, perhaps more easily. But I will so miss your love, your dear arms about me --”
“If I went to bed with you, I would be tempted too much. No, it is better this way. Alypius agrees I should do at least this.”
“Alypius! Whenever I see his fierce, cruel eyes, it strikes me that he hates human love.”
“Let us not have that again, Anna. You do not know his soul, his suffering. He and I are dedicated to the same noble cause and quest: philosophy, which leads us above sex to the higher love: of Truth, of God.”
She began softly sobbing, and I had a strong impulse to kiss her, for I always found her tears very attractive. But I restrained myself. I knew what I wanted, and I was the master, so she had to submit.

* * *

My career in Milan prospered rapidly. I made an oration before the Emperor and his mother, which was applauded as a masterpiece. My lectures were a huge success, and I had excellent students, who were orderly, and paid. I met the great Bishop of Milan, Ambrosius, famous for his virtues and his oratory through all Italy. And I made friends and useful connections on the fringes of the imperial court.
And there was one old friend here – Romanianus. He was still pursuing his complicated legal problem, but he had time to visit me. With him came his son, Licentius, now aged fifteen, who met Adeodatus again, after a gap of eight years. They got on reasonably well, but never became close friends.
Romanianus walked with me in the large garden, alone. I enquired, delicately, about his circumstances. He struck me as a waverer – in all directions. He was still a Manichee, but hesitating back to the orthodox faith. As for women – well, he had brought his slave Phryne with him to Milan. She was now twenty-six. “Still pretty,” he said. He claimed he had brought her over the sea with him only as a servant to Licentius, but I did not believe him.
“Ah, Tinus,” he said, “we are all growing older. As for me, I am thinking of marrying again. Not for the lust of the flesh, but for advancement. A man cannot be really wealthy and respectable unless he has a noble wife. She brings him a dowry, she brings him connections. Now you – thirty years old – you are the right age to marry. Find some noble girl in Milan, a girl with money and Imperial connections, and you will be made, for life. And all your relations in Africa would benefit enormously. Your mother, now – she would be delighted.”
That had occurred to me, too. I was deeply troubled. Perhaps I was more of a waverer than Romanianus. Anna – or a wife – or a life totally dedicated to God...
Alypius and I went to the great Basilica, and heard the sermons of Ambrosius. He impressed me first as an excellent orator; then I began paying close attention to what he was saying. He made the orthodox case seem very strong,
Alypius, that winter, was practising austerities. He began going barefoot, even on the coldest days - “like Socrates,” he said. I could never do that. But Adeodatus sometimes did – partly as a joke against Alypius; for his feet had been hardened when young, and he did not feel the cold.
Anna loved to spend all the time she could with our son. Whenever he was reading, in our house, she heard him read. Sometimes she went into his bedroom for this. Their love for each other was almost painful to see.
But there were times when Adeodatus was not available to her. Sometimes he read Scripture with myself and Alypius; sometimes he, with Alypius, sat in on my lectures. Now I took my son to meet important people. Many teachers of literature and rhetoric were glad to meet my charming and intelligent boy.
So Anna had time on her hands. She was mistress of our house, but the slaves knew their duties, and the house nearly ran itself. She spent some time with Lucia, who loved her, making tunics for me after the best Italian fashion; but that was a labor of love, strictly unnecessary, as I could easily now buy my own.
One afternoon, Anna and Lucia came to my study.
“Master Tinus,” said Lucia, smiling, “dear lady Anna has a suggestion which concerns us both.”
“My dear lord,” said Anna, “I want to be useful, as I was once, in Africa. You remember how I used to take bread and vegetables to your Manichee Elect? Now we have more money. What if I could now help feed the poor of this city?”
“Never throw coppers to beggars --”
“I don't mean that. But your Bishop has arrangements, near his basilica, to feed some of the deserving poor. I could buy provisions, and Lucia and I could help distribute bread and other things.”
“Kindly meant,” I said. “Bishop Ambrosius does have such arrangements. But the service is performed by Christians, especially Christian widows.”
She smiled. “I could go decently veiled, looking as Christian as possible. Besides, I would go with Lucia, who is indeed a Christian, and more or less a widow.”
Lucia clasped Anna's hand. “My dear child, Master Tinus, let us do it. You have a good girl here, and she wants to do good, and I want to help her.”
So that was arranged, and Anna derived satisfaction from that work. “Oh, it's so nice to be useful,” she said. “And I do remember what it's like to be poor. Mother and I were very poor when Malchus first brought us to Carthage. We often went hungry.”
“It is quite heavy work, Master Tinus,” said Lucia. “Half the morning, sometimes. The widow-ladies in charge commend the way lady Anna works. They think she is an excellent Christian, and I don't say nothing against that.”
The question sometimes arose, among us: why was Anna not a Christian? But I knew the answer to that. There were certain doctrines in the faith which she said she could never accept, and it would be hypocrisy, or worse, for her to be enrolled and baptized on those terms. I did not press her. She was tender-minded about such things as Hell and the necessary sacrifice of the good lord Christ. Alypius called this Invincible Emotionality.

* * *

Adeodatus loved Milan. I gave him pocket-money now, and he haunted the bookshops, occasionally buying some fine Latin author. One afternoon I found him in the garden, reading out to his mother some peculiar ornate prose.
“What book is that?” I asked.
“Father, the Metamorphoses of Lucius Apuleius. It's highly amusing. And he's a fellow-countryman of ours.”
I knew the work, of course. It was a hotch-potch of sexual episodes and amusing allegories, and much else. I was a little concerned about the sex; but Adeodatus knew the Facts of Life, and he had not yet reached puberty, so I thought the reading would be harmless.
“I love the story of Cupid and Psyche,” said the boy. “Of course, it is an allegory of the Soul and Love. But it has such a nice, happy ending.”
“Which can be taken as the final resting of the soul in heaven, with God.”
“Yes, Augustinus,” said Anna. “But Cupid and Psyche are also lovers, in every sense. I am glad they have each other in the end, with their eyes open to what they really are.”
“Which section have you reached now, my son?”
“Oh, Father, it's a wonderful description of the goddess Isis, the goddess of many names, arising out of the sea to heal Lucius.”
“Anna, let us talk,” I said.
She got up, and followed me away to the place under the far fig tree. “My lord, I had no hand in that. Of course I did not know the book, I had no idea what was coming. I have said nothing to our son about my goddess. But this Apuleius does describe her worthily, as the Lady of Compassion – if somewhat after the style of her image in the Great Temple, not our lesser one. Poor lady, she is not really as powerful as that.”
I had to leave it at that. When I asked Adeodatus, he said much the same thing. His mother had often talked to him about Mercy, Pity, Compassion, but she had not mentioned the name “Isis.”

* * *

Alypius and I were making progress in our quest for Truth. We had rejected now the idea that Evil was a substance, opposed to the substance of good. But how, from what did Evil arise? Ambrosius said it was an evil will arising in men, or in spirits which were originally good, but which had become evil through this same misuse of their wills. I did not altogether understand that. But I was sufficiently impressed. Alypius and I were once more enrolled, officially, as Catholic catechumens.
We held a little dinner at our house to celebrate. One of the guests was a rich citizen of Milan, Verecundus, a sympathizer of ours, a rhetorician. He had a Christian wife, but oddly enough he still called himself a pagan. When we asked him why he did not enrol as a Christian, he said: “I want to be a very good Christian, my dear sir, not a half-hearted one. My wife is ahead of me, but she is also a hindrance to my noble ambition. A first-class Christian, who seeks for oneness with God even in this life, ought to be celibate...”
We all began talking of coming together, somewhere, and founding a philosophical-Christian commune. We would pool our resources, give up ambition for this world, and seek only God. But that might be a little hard on the richer members. There was also the problem of wives...
“Oh,” said Verecundus, “if we do this, my wife and I will adopt chastity, celibacy. She will be to me as a beloved sister. Perhaps our commune could have a separate section for women...”
Anna was not, of course, present at our dinner, but she heard all about it from Adeodatus. This was one of the “safe” nights, so I met her in her bedroom, and we went to bed. She put her arms about me. “Augustinus, do you think you could treat me just as a sister?”
“You have heard...”
“Yes, the wife of Verecundus. Does she love her husband?”
“I gather that she does, very much.”
“Poor lady! I thought your God was supposed to be a God of Love!”
“There are different levels of love.”
“Oh yes, oh yes. It seems the higher level allows men to be cruel to their wives. But our son has been reading to me some of your scriptures. And you have no commandment to put away wives, only advice from one of your apostles, who sounds to me a man very like Alypius. And I know that your scriptures also say, How shall a man love God, whom he has not seen, if he love not his neighbor, whom he has seen? Now, Verecundus's wife is his closest neighbor. He has seen her. He has not seen God. This 'love of God' seems to consist, in practice, of reading lots of pious texts, and gazing into empty space. Sorry, my lord, I should say 'praying.' But when I pray to my goddess, I don't do it like that. Isis is compassion itself. I pray by helping real people, by loving real people --”
“God is a real person!”
“God is not real in the way you are real, Augustinus. And I love you. I would die for you, my darling, if that would make you happy. I would also do a more difficult thing than dying. I would go away from you, if you really wanted that. But, my dear, have mercy on me; and also on yourself. Don't do it until you are sure, really sure, that you want to. And, when you give me up, give me up for some real other woman, one who pleases you better – not, like Verecundus, for 'God'. Verecundus, Alypius – it doesn't matter if they call themselves pagans or Christians. They are all just afraid of life, real ordinary human life. You too, a bit, my dear. Why isn't ordinary life good enough for you?”
“Because it leads only to death. Animals have sex too, and they all perish. We philosophers want – immortality.”
She looked at me, but said no more. It was obvious that I could not make her understand the Higher Love. So I kissed her, and we made love in the fleshly sense that leads to death. But now I was so ashamed of my evil animal lust, that I used no fantasy, and so did not reach orgasm. I gave her pleasure, and that was enough.

* * *

Spring came on – the spring of this year in which I write, the tenth of our young emperor. I was acutely aware now, that I was being torn three ways: ambition for earthly things, ambition for God, and love for Anna. The first two, I knew, would almost equally please my mother. She wanted to see me either a governor, or a bishop. And she said so, in the few letters which reached me from Africa. I think in my own heart, the ambition for God was the strongest. I told myself, once I had given all to God, I could still love Anna as a dear sister, and pray to God for her. But Anna wanted more than that, and her tears always moved me. Those, and her delectable and still young body.
It was in early May, one afternoon, that I saw Nebridius coming down the lane towards our house.
“Nebridius!” I cried, as we embraced. “How are you here?”
He laughed. “Why, by sea and land. I have come to join you, my friend. With your mother and brother, and... Well, you will see them at once. I walked on ahead from the posting-station by the south gate, where we have left our horses. Mules and baggage will follow.”
So it had come, at last. I said, “How are things with your family?”
“All well. I have told my mother that I am inclining strongly to the orthodox Christian faith. She says, 'Dear son, just tell us by letter when you have enrolled, and I will enrol our whole house also.' There, she's a nice mother, isn't she?”
Then the others came, and I saw my family. My mother; my brother Navigius, now in his twenties; and two male cousins, about the same age. The servants with them were Lucilla and Chrestus.
I greeted my mother with tears of joy. And then I told her: “Mother, I am again a Catholic catechumen.”
She smiled. “I said it would happen, my dear son. I am glad, but I am not surprised.”
“And I go to church every Lord's Day, and hear the wonderful sermons of the great Ambrosius. My friends and I are all seeking God, mother...”
“Excellent,” she said. “Ah, and here is my dear grandson. How he is grown!”
She embraced him. He kissed her, a little nervously, as it seemed to me.
“He is grown in wisdom, too,” I said.
“Like you. I suppose, Augustinus, you have now put away that African woman?”
This was embarrassing. “Well – not exactly...”
“You mean, you still sleep with her?”
“I am trying to achieve chastity, mother. By degrees. But I don't find it easy. And I still love Anna.”
“Love!” she said. “You call that love?”

* * *

After that, events moved swiftly. We fitted the people into the house. But Anna was no longer the mistress of the place: my mother was. It was a little like that time in Carthage, in the house of Nebridius. But worse.
Mostly they avoided each other. When we had family meals, Anna did not eat with us. She ate with Lucia, my slave.
About now, I again offered Lucia her freedom. Again she refused.
“Oh, my dear boy,” she said, “I belonged to you from the time you were born. I want to belong to you till I die.” She wiped away a tear. “I know another woman who wishes the same. Oh, master Tinus, how can you be so cruel to her?”
“I am not cruel to her, Lucia. I am trying to make the best of a difficult situation.”
“She was once your lady here. I know her, she is the best lady in the world. Oh, lord God, why did you not make Anna freeborn and rich – or my boy's slave?”
About this time I kept arguing with Alypius about continence. I said I might marry; in one sense, I was married already. I put forward Anna's argument, that a man could be both married, and a good Christian too. Maybe he should try that.
This I said partly as a joke; and so he took it. “Delightful,” he murmured. “I suppose it might be amusing. But I don't think I could do the act without beating her. And that surely cannot be innocent... It's a long time since I had that experience. No, Augustinus, on second thoughts, I won't marry. And I wish you wouldn't, either.”
But that was the way I was now going. My mother quickly became involved in the life of Milan, very much in the Church, but also in Court circles. She hovered about Bishop Ambrosius. And then, through him I think, she was introduced to a noble and wealthy Roman family resident in Milan – baptized Christians, of course. And she saw to it that I was introduced to them too. I liked them: charming, wealthy, and influential people.
They had a daughter, Caelia, about ten and a half years old; a very pretty little girl, white skinned, golden haired, and educated as much as a young woman should be. She could read, even the more difficult Roman poets. She had a sweet singing voice. In a few years, she would certainly be a lovely woman. She would be marriageable, by law, when she reached twelve years.
When we left that great house, the first time, my mother said to me: “Augustinus, that is the girl you must marry.”
“Marry! Mother, I do not want to marry. I want to dedicate myself to God.”
“Well, you are going about that very strangely. You waver, you are still a catechumen, you still wallow in lust with your concubine. Now if you marry Caelia, say in two years' time, you will at least have to be baptized, either before or after. And think of the advantages, both in this world and the next! You will be cleaned of all sin; and you will certainly achieve a governorship. And that way you will also do great good to your brother and cousins.”
This was in early July. For weeks I hesitated. Anna knew what was in the wind, but she said nothing to me about it – she spent all her free time with Adeodatus. And I – in the end, I found the family argument irresistible. And it would not happen for two years. It might not be so bad...
The thing seemed inevitable. So at last, we made the formal proposal to that family. And it was accepted.
There was one condition they made, however. My mother had told them about Anna. They said the pagan concubine must leave, and go far from me, and the sooner the better.
Soon! I begged my mother for a reprieve – at least for one more year. She sneered at me.
“Remember how you used to pray – 'O Lord, give me chastity and continence, but not yet!' How much longer is this 'not yet' going to extend?”
That night, I went to bed with Anna. She had clearly been weeping, but now she seemed composed. “If this is for your good, Augustinus, I do not oppose it. From what I hear, this girl is pretty, accomplished, nice. Love her – love her well, my dear.”
“Anna, I will never love her the way I have loved you. And in any case, we are talking of some years hence. She is younger than Adeodatus. I may have to wait some time, even after I marry her... I am doing this mainly for my family. And I hope to avoid all lust.”
“Does that mean, you won't imagine her your slave?”
“That is what I mean.”
“Then – you will not give her your seed.”
“Perhaps not.”
“Augustinus, that would not be fair to the poor girl. If she is a normal woman, she will want babies. And the idea of marriage is not complete without the hope of children. Lust, as you call it, is better than what you are proposing. Love her, my dear, imagine her your pretty blonde slave, and give her children. Only – only my dear, afterwards – sometimes remember me.”
“I will always remember you, darling Anna. You are half my soul...” And we both wept, and I made love to her, giving her pleasure, but avoiding lust or orgasm for myself.
Alypius, now, was saying I should send Anna away at once. Nebridius was gentler. He said, “When the time comes, my friend – not soon, I hope – you must deal generously with her. Give her plenty of money --”
“Of course I will!”
“And I will give her a letter to my mother. She can stay there as long as she likes. It was already her home, for years. She might even be happy, with my mother and that woman Elissa. They are saying she must go 'far from you.' Africa is far enough; and one day, perhaps you can see her again, there.”
I thought I would keep her with me for one more year at least. But then there occurred a scene, for which, again, I must rely on witnesses.

* * *

It was a warm afternoon. Anna and Adeodatus were sitting under the fig-tree at the end of the garden, on the grass, holding hands. They were whispering to each other, in Punic, as my mother and Alypius walked toward them.
Anna stood up. Mother said: “Grandson, leave us. We must talk to Anna alone.”
Adeodatus kissed Anna. In parting, he said, “Grandmother, be kind to her!”
“That is exactly what we mean to be,” said Mother. She had clearly drunk a cup of wine or two: her cheeks were flushed.
When the boy had gone, Alypius said: “We are concerned, Anna, about your eternal happiness, the fate of your soul. You will be leaving her, leaving behind the best Christian influences. It is true that if you stay with the lady Placida, you will soon find yourself in a Christian household. Nebridius will return there, too, one day. But those people will not be so earnest for your salvation as am I, or the lady Monnica.”
“Well,” said Anna, “what is your proposition?”
“When you die, we do not want you to go to Hell. If you remain a worshipper of this demon Isis, you certainly will. Torture for all eternity! Do you think Augustinus will be happy, knowing that that is to befall you?”
Anna managed to smile. “I think Augustinus will remain unorthodox on that one doctrine at least. My son also. They think God will make an exception for little me, because I have loved much.”
“There are no exceptions. God's justice is not to be tampered with. And you have rejected known truth, and chosen a devil. But repent, enrol, be baptized! Then we will all meet in Heaven, even you and Augustinus, in that place where there is only spiritual love.”
“That is kindly meant, I think,” said Anna. “But Alypius, you know I cannot accept.”
“Do it, Anna. If so, you may be allowed to stay here a little longer. Till my friend marries, or – better still – achieves perfect chastity.”
“You may not be allowed to sleep with him,” said Mother, “but you could remain in this house, as a Christian, a chaste woman, for a year or two longer, with your son.”
“Ah, I see now,” said Anna. “The bait, and the hook. This is clever of you. But it is also cruel.”
“We are cruel in order to be kind,” said Alypius. “Come now, why will you not accept our religion? Millions all over the Empire are accepting it, more every day. Do you reject the doctrine of punishment after this life? But many other religions have that, too. Even the pagan Socrates believed in Hell.”
“Socrates did not believe in eternal torture for babies, nor for people who merely disagreed with him. My son has taught me that.”
“Anna,” said Alypius, “this may be your last chance. Hell is entailed on the unbaptised because of Original Sin. We were all in Adam, and Adam incurred for us all enormous guilt --”
“By eating an apple; or was it a fig, or a pear? I know your story. Adam and his wife were like little children, who run about naked and innocent. Tell a child not to eat an apple or pear, and he is certain to do it. And for this little sin --”
“Not a little sin, but a great one! Disobedience to God. We are all guilty, all doomed, unless our guilt is paid for by the blood of the lord Christ.”
Anna, I am afraid, lost her composure. “Alypius, lady Monnica, do you want me to tell you exactly, what I think of your religion?”
“Yes,” said Mother, with a certain grim expectation.
“I think your God is an evil demon. He will torture me for ever, along with Socrates and millions of little babies, just to prove to us unbelievers that, after all, he does exist. If that happens to me in the other world, I will certainly believe that my torturer exists; but not that he is good, or God. As for the poor dear lord Christ – what good father would demand that his eldest son be tortured to death, before he could forgive his other children their faults? If your God is merciful, why does he not merely forgive, without demanding human sacrifice? Real fathers are more merciful that this... Either your God does not exist, or he is Evil. I will not worship this monster, no, not even to stay one more day at the side of my dear son. If I did now pretend, and bow the knee to your demon, Augustinus would know me for a liar and a hypocrite. I would rather he kept a better memory than that, of me.”
My mother looked at Alypius. “With this blasphemy, she has condemned herself.”
Anna said: “Lady Monnica, why don't you now rend your garments, like that High Priest? Or has that gone out of fashion?”
Then my mother slapped Anna across the cheek; and then she and Alypius walked away.
Mother went at once to the parents of Caelia, and told them of Anna's defiant paganism. And they agreed: she must leave at once, within days, before the season grew too late for safe sailing to Africa.
I was helpless. I reproached Anna.
“My dear lord, yes. I am sorry, I lost my temper. But you Christians have provoked me year after year. Perhaps, in any case, it is best I go now.”

* * *

Our last night together.
It was in August, fourteen years and two weeks from the night we first came together in my little bedroom in Carthage. Adeodatus was now just thirteen years old: it was two days after his birthday.
For once, Anna begged that she might come to my room, to her lord's bed. “Like the first time,” she said. And I allowed that. We held each other in our arms, and wept. Then Anna began to laugh, though not happily.
“Augustinus, have you thought through your next year or two? Before you can go to bed with this child of twelve? Oh, you will try to be chaste, but you won't manage it. I know you, dear: you are a lusty man, and none the worse for that. It is best you satisfy your lust, rather than burn, as your apostle says. Hire a whore out of a tavern – a Christian whore, to be sure, that should please your mother – and keep her on a contract for two years --”
“Anna, no, I will never do that. No, I will attempt total continence.”
“Well, good luck. But now, my dear lord, this last night you do not have to be chaste.”
It was not one of her “safe” nights. But when I was about to go into her, she said: “Oh, my darling, let it be whole lovemaking for once. Enjoy your lust! I think if I had been a Carthaginian girl, when the old city was stormed, and I was made captive, and you had bought me, my Roman master – I think I would have loved you just the way I do now, and all my life. I am glad that you lust after me, my master. It is really love, my dear, love. Love your little Punic slave, my Roman. Anna, your Punic slave, submits to you now, my master.”
That was too much for me to resist. I took her, both savagely and tenderly, and we both achieved the supreme pleasure and joy, together.

* * *

Last scene of all, I can hardly bear to describe it.
We were sending Chrestus and Lucilla back to Africa with Anna. Chrestus had already taken the baggage to the posting-station, all but the little casket of gold coins. And then we all moved out from the house, as far as the lane. Anna had a cord at her neck: I knew she was wearing the medal of Isis.
Lucia kissed Anna, then turned to me. “Well, master Tinus, I am glad I am your slave... Lucilla! Make sure you take great care of this good lady, you and your husband. She is your milk-brother's girl, almost your sister-in-law. Make sure you love and cherish her, on the roads, on the sea, in Carthage.”
“I will, mother.” Lucilla kissed us all, and pressed Anna's hand.
Then Adeodatus was in his mother's arms. He was sobbing as if his heart would break.
“Don't cry,” said Anna. “I believe, my boy, that is unRoman.”
“Mother, mother, if we come back to Africa, I will come and see you!”
“Perhaps, if your father permits it.” And then she said something softly in his ear, something I did not catch, perhaps in Punic.
“Of course I will permit it,” I said. “Anna, I hope I too may see you again, one day.”
She looked up at me, with those dear blue-grey eyes of hers. “Time and chance, Augustinus, time and chance. You may never return to Africa. And we are none of us immortal. It may be, dear, this is the last time we will see each other in this life. God bless you, Augustinus. I swear to you by your Master of the Universe, and by my Lady, that I at least will never know another man, not in my whole life.”
And she turned away, and we saw her walk down the lane, with Chrestus and Lucilla, until they turned the corner, and were hidden from our sight.
As we went back into the house, my old slave turned on me.
“Are you proud of this?” said Lucia. “It is the worst thing you have ever done, in your whole life.”
I fled to my bedroom, and wept bitterly.


# 8

QVASI EPILOGVS

All the writings above – I poured them out in Milan, in that time of my shame; a year before I was truly converted to God. As Anna had foreseen, during that year I fell back into lust, with a hired woman. But after I was converted, I dismissed her, and gave up all worldly ambition, and thoughts of marriage. I had come to realize that no sexual love is innocent: even my best love for Anna had had an element of possessive lust in it. I cannot look at any young woman without wanting to possess her. But pure love is pure benevolence, without selfish and troubling desire... Half a year after my conversion, I was baptized, along with Alypius and my dear son; all three devoting ourselves to perfect chastity and perpetual continence. Nebridius soon followed us into baptism, and, a little later, converted his household in Carthage.
Now I write this from Thagaste, more than four years after my parting from Anna; on the first day of December, the fifteenth year of our emperor. I write in great sorrow, having just received news, perhaps the most painful of my whole life.

* * *

A few words about how I come to be here. And then I will transcribe...a letter enclosing a letter enclosing a letter.
After we were baptized, we began to make our way back to Africa. But there were political disturbances, and for a while no letters came from Africa, and the seas were unsafe. At Ostia, near Rome, my mother died. Then there were further delays. At last our party reached Carthage, more than a year ago.
Nebridius was not yet there, being delayed in Italy. I was anxious to move on to Thagaste, to set up our Christian commune, but we spent a few days in Carthage, staying with a devout Christian friend. I realized now that I could not meet Anna, not at least for some years: she might disturb my pure devotion to God. Indeed, as far as possible, I now avoid all women. I was therefore afraid to visit the house of Nebridius's mother; but Adeodatus went there immediately. He returned quickly, almost distraught.
“The lady Placida knows nothing of Mother's whereabouts. She never called there at all. She was walking with Chrestus and Lucilla up from the harbor, and then she made them pause. She gave them a short note to Placida, then told them to go ahead with the baggage: she wanted to see some place first, alone. She would be quite safe, she said. Chrestus did not like this, because Mother had so much money sewed into her girdle, but he could not disobey. So they went up to the house. When Placida read the note, she found that it said: 'Do not fear for me, dear lady. I thank you for all your kindness. But I am now going to a place where I will be safe and at peace for the rest of my life. Those who wish to find me, will know where to find me.' Father, what does this mean?”
I had a suspicion, but I thought Anna did not wish to be found, at least not by me, or by most other Christians. So I said to him: “I do not know. She is surely not in want: I gave her many gold solidi. Let us pray for her, that she may be converted, and make a good Christian end. Perhaps it is best that we do not see her now.”
That did not stop Adeodatus. He roamed the streets of Carthage. He did not tell me where he went. But after a few days, in tears, he gave up. He had followed every clue, without success. Elissa, lady Placida's maid, was now dead; even Anna's mother was dead. It was hopeless.
Or so it seemed, to him. As for me, I thought it best that he should not see his mother so soon. I did not want her to shake his Christian resolve.
So we all went on to Thagaste. I sold my paternal estates, and we set up our little community of study and prayer. Nebridius came back to Carthage at last, but he did not join us. His health was now weak, and he preferred his mother's house.
A few weeks ago, Adeodatus and I were discussing the virgin mother of Christ, whom many Christians are now calling a great saint. “She must at least have been a noble woman,” I said. “A carpenter's wife, but a true lady.”
“A lady of sorrows,” said my boy. “I picture her, draped in a dark blue mantle, with her dead Son in her lap. One day, some man should paint or sculpt her like that. A lady of compassion... It was my mother who taught me to think of her with that image.”, and older than
I was startled. “Isis!” I blurted out.
“What, Father?”
“The goddess Isis, whom your mother worshipped. She used to visit a temple in Carthage with a statue just like that.”
“I visited the great temple of Isis a year ago, in Carthage. There was no such statue. They had Isis in glory, not in sorrow.”
“No, not in the Great Temple, in a smaller one.”
He looked at me strangely, but said nothing. Two days later, he asked my permission to visit Carthage. He said he wanted to see Nebridius again, to enquire after his health, and perhaps persuade him to join us in Thagaste.
As my son was now more than seventeen years old, sober and responsible, I assented to this. I said farewell to him at our river-port. I thought, How beautiful he is, my son, tall and grey-eyed, and older than I was when I first went to Carthage – but not like me then, a prey to unholy lust. At the last moment, I whispered to him: “If you see her, tell her I still love her, with the pure love of friendship.”
He kissed me, but said nothing. I saw his boat go down the river, and he waved from the deck, and I waved back to him.
That was about half a month ago. And today I received the following letter:


Nebridius to Augustinus, greeting.
Ah, my dear friend, sorrowful tidings. My own health continues weak, which is why I cannot come to you in person. But of your son – no, let me enclose his letter:


Adeodatus to his father Augustinus, greeting.
I cannot come immediately back to Thagaste, since I have a touch of fever. But let this letter serve. Alas, my dear father, I write also in some perturbation of mind. I hope I will be able to continue in our holy community, but – some things have happened which have truly shaken me.
I have received news of my mother. When we parted, that day in Milan, she said softly to me in Punic: “You may find me at the feet of Isis.” Therefore, last year, I went to the Great Temple, but found no trace of her. Now, after you told me of the smaller temple, I enquired everywhere, until I found it.
It is like a small basilica, rather dark inside, very bare. I was welcomed by the elderly priest Serapius and his wife Bastis, who stood near the entrance, within. There were apparently no others present. As my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I saw the statue. It was exactly as I had imagined, a woman in a dark blue robe, seated, with a child in her lap. She gazed downward at the child, with love and sorrow. It was the most beautiful image I had ever seen.
But then, suddenly, a very strange thing happened. The child, which I had thought to be of stone, came to life. She wriggled, sprang down from the statue's lap, and came running towards us. She was a pretty little girl, somewhat more than three years old, in a little white tunic, barefoot like the priest and priestess. She had dark hair, a fair skin, and grey eyes. She wore over the breast of her tunic a silver medallion, just like the one Mother once had. She now took the hand of the priestess, and gazed up at me, wonderingly.
Serapius smiled. “You must pardon our little daughter, sir. This is a game she plays sometimes when there are no worshippers present. The stone child of the goddess is detachable, and we think it not impious sometimes to detach it, and place it behind the statue, and let little Theodora take its place. For she is in a sense very much a child of the goddess, the child of Compassion.”
“Your child?” I said, looking at Bastis, who seemed at least sixty years old.
“Legally, yes,” she said. “By adoption. And since her father is uncertain – stated so on the document we signed – no man can take her away from us, She will grow up here in the temple, and will one day I hope be a priestess, like me; and like me, one day marry a very good husband.” She smiled at Serapius. “For there is no requirement in our religion that our priests or priestesses be celibate. Isis is a wife, and we foster marriage.”
Then the little girl said to Serapius: “Papa, who is this man?”
She said it in Punic. He replied in the same language: “Mariam, I do not yet know. We will ask.”
I spoke now in Punic. “Your child has two names? I did not know Punic was spoken here.”
“Why, sir, yours is excellent,” said Serapius. “Oh yes, we speak several languages in this temple, Latin, Punic, a little Greek. In Latin and Greek we call our little girl Theodora. In Punic we call her Mariam. If you Latinize that name, it is Maria.”
“Why two different names?”
“Her natural mother would have it so. She gave both names. And now sir, may we enquire your name?”
“In Latin, I am called Adeodatus. In Punic, or Hebrew, Nathanael.”
This news had an instant effect on the two elders. “Lady of Life!” cried Bastis. “Mercy on us! It is he, come at last!”
“So it would seem,” said her husband. “The Gift of God. Alas, but so late!”
I said immediately: “Do you know of a woman called Anna, or Hanna? From Utica, knowing well both Latin and Punic. She must be now...thirty-five years old. I think she may have come here, from Italy, about four years ago.”
Serapius nodded. “We do know of her. And you are her son?”
“Indeed I am. Do you know where she is?”
“Yes,” he said.
Bastis took my hand, and pressed it. “Dear boy, your mother was a very good woman, very loving. She did stay with us when she returned to Carthage. She was not a priestess, you understand, but a Helper. Her name, Hanna, means Compassion; and she lived up to it. She stayed with a few widows in the quarters behind the temple; with them she helped to feed the poor and hungry. Not just of our congregation, but any others, Christians included, who seemed worthy of help. Some of that food she bought herself, for she had some resources, some money of her own. She did these good works nearly every day --”
“Yes, yes. She used to do the same in Milan. I was with her there, I saw her do that. But where is she now?”
They looked at each other in silence. I saw a tear well up in the priestess's eye. Then, at once, I knew. Bastis embraced me. “My dear, dear child...”
I controlled myself, though my tears trembled. I said: “How long ago was it?”
“In May of last year, one and a half years ago,” said the priest. “She was some two and a half years with us, and it is one and a half years since we buried her ashes in our garden, under a beautiful tree, one which she sometimes used to tend herself. We will show you the place.”
So, Father, she was already dead for some five months when we passed through Carthage last year. So we do not need to reproach ourselves for passing her by.
They went with me into the garden, and the child trailed after us. They showed me the beautiful palm tree. The grass has grown back over the place where the urn is buried. There is no monument at all.
“We do not build monuments of stone or bronze,” said Serapius. “Her true monument is in our hearts. In yours too, my son. I can see that you loved her deeply. She told us you did.”
Then he smiled. “But to temper your grief a little, she left some things for you. One is this child: little Theodora-Mariam. Maria, the daughter of Anna.”
Bastis had been whispering to the little girl. Now she came up and embraced me, somewhere about my waist. “Frater meus! Nathanael! They said you would come one day, Theodoros...”
She was babbling in three languages, Latin, Greek, and Punic. But in all, she was calling me Brother.
This time my tears poured freely, as I knelt and embraced her. I raised my head. “You are sure...?”
“Silly boy,” said Bastis, “of course we are sure! I delivered her myself. Your mother was pregnant when she reached Carthage. The child was born in May, so she was begotten in the previous August. If you remember the dates, you can work out for yourself whether Mariam is your half-sister or your full sister. You will never find evidence in writing to prove which. Hanna used to say, that on the voyage back to Africa, the man Chrestus was half in love with her. But then he had his wife with him; and you know what your mother was like. You know what oath she swore when she parted from your father. She was not an oath-breaker.”
We stayed a long time in that garden, I kissing Theodora and she kissing me. She had been too young when Mother died to remember her well, but Bastis and Serapius had often reminded her, and told her of the brother who would come one day. The medallion she wore was not just like Mother's; it was Mother's: I recognized the amount of wear on the bust and the face. Only the cord was new.
Theodora is an intelligent little girl, very articulate for three and a half years, with your coloring, Father, and Mother's eyes. I love her. But these two, her adoptive parents, made it quite clear that they will never hand her over to you. You and I may visit her; but that is all.
“This is not all,” said Serapius. “She left something else for you. She said, before the end, that you would surely come for it, one day.”
They led me to a small chamber at the back of the temple, where there were strong chests, securely locked. As we went, I asked Bastis: “How did she come to die?”
“The wasting sickness. I am sorry, but the truth is that it was slow, and she had much pain. Yet she retained her courage, and even her beauty, till the end. Little Mariam was a great comfort to her.”
“Here you are,” said the priest. “A letter, and a small casket. These are your property, for she willed them to you. We have the document to prove that. We have kept these all this time, hoping... And now we are glad that our duty is completed.”
This, Father, is the letter she wrote. She could write, you know; and better than you imagined, better than Grandmother. She could even write Punic, for her father had taught her that alphabet. Some of what she could do in letters was my doing, but the rest she had long known from her father. She asked me not to tell you of her abilities, because you might think them unsuitable for a simple slave-born woman, and Grandmother would have been even more angry. Also, you did not ask. Well, I will transcribe the letter – in places, translate, for some phrases are in Punic:


Hanna to her son Nathanael, greeting.
My dear son, do not grieve too much when you read this. I think we have both grieved enough, missing each other sorely for so many years. But you are a man, and when a man grows up, he belongs more and more to his father, and sees less of his mother. And make no mistake about this, Nathanael: your father is a good man, a very good man. If I had not been slave-born, I know he would have married me. We loved each other dearly for fourteen years. No, that is not adequate. I still love him, and I think he still loves me.
About the child, your sister: I will not admit in writing who is her father, but you can well guess. She looks so like you, as you were at her age. One pleasant thing about her: since she is the child of a freedwoman, she is free-born. She can easily marry a gentleman, if she loves him and he loves her. If dreams tell truth, I have dreamt about her marriage: her husband will be a young Greek philosopher, a follower of Isis, and they will live happily in Athens.
I must not speak against your father's God, since that is also yours. But remember what I often told you in Milan, that real love is love of real people. Do not destroy your life, Nathanael, by dedicating yourself to abstractions.
Your poor father: I can guess what has become of him. He will not marry that Roman girl. Worldly ambition is not really strong in him. He went that way largely to please his mother. He will find one day that he has pleased her enough. And then --
Poor man, he has this great fear of what he calls Lust; like so many of his friends, who suffer from the same folly. I always forgave him his lust for me, for it was always mainly love; and it had such pleasant consequences – for instance, you. But I could never persuade him. One day he will feel obliged to give up Lust, and worship his abstract God, who is supposed to be far above the Flesh – although he created it.
If your father is alive, give him from me this last greeting. No, I will address him myself:
Augustinus, dear heart, I love you. I love what happened on our last night together. I had no plan when I did that, only pure love. But if the consequence is lovely, why, rejoice in her... If you feel remorse about me, do not brood on it. I know your heart was not in that dismissal. Merely, your mother was too strong for you. Farewell, my dear. I am leaving you a little present – not the child, I mean solid property – which our son will convey to you. If you are no longer alive, the present is his; but I am confident that you do live, and I hope you are, and will be, happy.

Anna

Hanna

Father, that signature is written twice, in two languages: Latin, which I have transcribed, and Punic, which I have translated. The Punic writing, below the Latin, is just three consonants, which spell her name, much as in Hebrew. The first consonant is very like a strong H, or the Greek letter Chi. So I could transliterate:

XNH

As I looked up from the letter, I found that the priest Serapius had opened Mother's little casket, her gift through me to you. I looked inside, and saw what it was:

Eight gold solidi


Nebridius adds:
Your son's letter has no conclusion, because at that point the poor boy became too weak to write any more words. He had begun to ail the very night that he returned from that temple. And after four more days, he died.
We have buried him at the Basilica of Carthage, among the saints.
Farewell.


FINIS