Roman Beggar
Hello, there, friend, looks like you are having some trouble getting that attractive yellow buggy over that sand dune. Can I give you some assistance, for a small donation? Or wash your windows?
Oh, you don’t have glass windows on your cart. Yes, I see that now. Some of the better people do, nowadays, but that’s no matter. You see, I am partially blind. I am a veteran of foreign wars, currently disabled. Did you also serve?
Oh you did? Well, that’s true, it’s mandatory. But still. Rather an honor, don’t you think? And I did fight with Caesar in Gaul. Were you ever in Gaul? And weren’t the woman fantastic? Don’t answer, now that I think about it, for you see, that’s my wife sitting in the shade over there, and she might get jealous, for she always has been, although, as you see, she and I are so, so old now. Reduced to beggary, we are. Oh, we have a nice apartment in Rome, that’s so, just a few miles from here, a sort of senior, one bedroom arrangement, but it’s on the upper floors, and we must truck ourselves up and down, and my wife, in particular, her knees are so horrible, and she makes so many complaints. Sometimes I want to say, can you just rest here a little, on this step, while I go to the apartment and rest a little myself, and I promise you, I will come back in a bit, because it’s such an awful, drawn out matter, the way she swivels her leg out, raises it up one step, and then sort of leeeeeaaaaannnnsssss on it, and then pants a little, looks off in the distance, some time goes by, it seems like a long time, and then she lets me grab her arm, and up with the other leg, and, out of all that time, we have ascended one step. And then she rests again. But I haven’t got up the nerve to say anything to her. Just yet. But our apartment is 100 stone steps up.
My, sir, the way you lean your back into the buggy and push, I swear, you are a strong man? Can I assist you? For a fee?
Do we have children? Bless your soul for asking, sir. None living. My only son died when he just a boy, could barely toddle. The girl, we exposed, as we could not afford her. My wife cried, but sir, I tell you, I saw a young woman in the Forum, and a young man with her, a husband or a male relative, and it looked just like her, although, of course, I exposed her outside the city as a baby, and I am quite sure everything worked out all right, and she was taken up. There are a lot of good families that do frequent those exposure grounds, and a lot of young children make out well, so don’t judge me too harshly, sir, for what can I do, having a girl, and no food in the house half the time, and no husband for her. She’d be sitting under that tree with my wife just now, and what sort of life would that be for her, I wonder.
Sir, your face is very red. I think you might sit a moment. Would you like a sip of water? Now, sir, don’t get agitated. Sooner or later, that fine buggy will be up over that sand dune, and you’ll be on your way again. Where are you headed, if I might ask? Carthage, you say. Well, give my regards to Dido! Little joke sir.
Yes, sir, there you go. You can try again in a moment, when you are quite recovered. I am sure the ferry man will wait…if you are lucky. Another little joke, sir. If you like the jokes, you can make a small donation.
What’s that, sir? You’ll have to speak loudly, I am deaf in one ear. That was another war injury. I was fighting with Caesar one day, and this foreign bastard shoved a javelin into my skull, and I think it must be that, or else old age, I suppose.
You know, talking again of my military service, I will tell you that I am quite angry. Caesar was my great pal and always promised me that I should be taken care of quite well. Don’t worry, old chap, he’d say to me. You and me, we’ll be old soldiers together, and drink wine every night and talk over all of these battles, and we’ll have great times. But of course, they killed him. Well, we did march on Rome, but that was sort of an unexpected thing, so far as I am concerned. Old soldier, march here, march there, that’s all I did. One day, we were marching on, and I was so tired, then all of the sudden, all the scenery starts to look very familiar, but it was so hot, and my helmet was over my eyes, and after all, one forest and one river look very like another. But I will tell you. But after a while, it became clear that it *was* Rome, but I was not at all sure what to do. I asked a few fellows, but they were confused as well, but they said, well, Caesar knows best, and who else is going take care of us when we are old man? These Roman aristocrats? They don’t give a damn. At the time, it made sense. Caesar was the one. Without him, I didn’t have a chance.
After that, people…some people…they were rather…cold. I thought I should get out of it. I was an old soldier, I started to ask about it, about a plot of land for me and my wife. They told me they thought they could do something for me in Miletus. I said, Miletus? I’ve never even been to Miletus. I mean, perhaps I have, but I don’t think so. They shrugged. I said, I’m going to take an apartment and beg for my food, and it’s a disgrace, an absolute disgrace, because really I risked my limb, and there I was, the first one to turn Caesar onto his side during one of his fits, his shaking fits, so he didn’t choke on his vomit and die, and this is what I get. It really is disgraceful.
Thanks for asking sir. Besides being a soldier, I do a little but of side carpentry. When I was a soldier, I quick to carve out a off peg leg or arm for a friend. Oh, I assure you, I was quite in demand. Whenever my pal was there, bleeding, why, as soon as the enemy was out of shot, I would lean in, cradle that bloody head, and say, listen, friend, don’t you worry. We’ll get you fixed up in a jiffy, and you’ll be as good as new. And they’d look up at me, tears in their eyes, and as it dawned on them who was talking, and really how generous I was to be the first to rush in like that, why, they were so grateful. I am sure. I know I would be.
Really, sir, I wish you would let me help you. What are you up to Carthage? Oh, visiting distant relatives and scouting for a wife? Well, I hope she’s young and beautiful, but looking at you, sir, in your fine white toga, I imagine that you only get the best. Not some toothless Forum prostitute for you, sir. Oh no. The rich blushing maiden from the good family, although to tell you the truth sir, Carthage is a long way off, and I am sure I could find one closer, just in Rome, even, without all this preposterous pushing over sand dunes. And what is to become of your toga, I have to ask. All stained with dirt. What will the young woman think? I wish you would let me help you.
Oh you left your change purse in your other toga. Well, I say, sir, that’s unfortunate, but I have a wife to support, and, to be fair, it’s the third time I have heard that excuse today. I hope you manage to push that buggy over the sand dune, but, to be fair sir. I am not quite sure if I care at this point or not.
