They were not alone. It took Lucius’s eyes a long time to adjust to the dimness of the place, but gradually he counted more than fifty fellow prisoners, most of them huddled against the walls. Occasionally, Lucius heard something rustle in the straw and heard the squeak of a mouse.

Lucius felt faint. He steadied himself against a wall. He touched his forehead and found that it was as clammy as the stones against which he was leaning.

“Are you unwell?” said Apollonius.

“This place…”

“You’re thinking of her, and imagining the hole underground in which they confined her.”

“Yes.”

“Push all such imaginings from your mind, Lucius. Think only of this moment, and the place in which you find yourself. See it for what it is, nothing more and nothing less.”

“It’s horrible!”

“It’s certainly not as comfortable as your garden. And yet, we are able to breathe, and to move about. We have enough light by which to see each other, and more importantly, we are together, sharing each other’s company, and the company of these new friends with whom we find ourselves. I’m guessing they have many stories to tell. As long we possess curiosity, we shall not be bored.”

Lucius managed a rueful laugh. “Teacher, this is a prison.”

“Lucius, we mortals are in a prison every moment we live. The soul is bound inside a perishable body, enslaved by all the cravings which visit humanity. The man who built the first dwelling merely surrounded himself with yet another prison, and made himself a slave to it, for any dwelling must be maintained, just like the human body. I think that the man who lives in a palace is more surely a prisoner than the men he puts in chains. As for the place where we now find ourselves, we must reflect that we are not the first to be confined in this way. Many a wise man, despised by the mob or hated by a despot, has had to endure such a fate, and the best have done so with serene resignation. Let us strive to do the same, so that we may not be inferior to those who set an example before us.”

Some of the other prisoners, hearing him speak, drew closer.

“You’re Apollonius of Tyana, aren’t you?” said one of the men.

“I am.”

“I heard you speak once. I recognized your voice. But I’d never have known you otherwise. Your hair’s been cut, and so has your beard.” The man shook his head. “I never thought to see those snow-white tresses be shorn like fleece from a lamb! Who would have thought that Apollonius of Tyana could be put in chains?”

“The person who put me in chains thought of it, for otherwise he wouldn’t have done it,” said Apollonius.

The man laughed. “Truly, you are Apollonius. But those fetters must be causing you great pain. Look how the rough iron chafes the skin.”

“I hadn’t noticed. My thoughts are on more important things.”

“But how can you be in pain and not think about it? A man can’t ignore pain.”

“Not so,” said Apollonius. “The mind attends to what the self deems important. If there is injury, a man may choose not to feel pain, or order the pain to stop.”

The man pursed his lips. “But why are you still here? You’re a magician. Why don’t you just walk out?”

Apollonius laughed. “Like the man who me put me here, you accuse me of being a magician. Well, let us suppose that it’s true. In that case, it must be that I am here among you because I wish to be.”

“Why would any man wish to be here?” said another man, stepping forward and crossing his arms.

“Perhaps I can serve a purpose. Perhaps my words can give comfort or courage. How did you come to be here, friend?”

“The plain truth? I have too much wealth.”

Lucius saw that the speaker was dressed in a fine tunic and cloak, though his clothes were filthy from long confinement in the dank cell. His face was haggard, but folds of flesh hung from his chin, as if he had once been fat but had lost weight very quickly.

“Who put you here?” said Apollonius.

“Who do you think? The same man who put us all here.”

“He covets your wealth?”

“He told me to my face, before he sent me here, that an excess of wealth is dangerous for a common citizen. Money makes a man insolent and prideful, he said. As if trumping up charges against me, throwing me in this hole, and trying to extort my money was all for my own good!”

“Did he offer you a way out?”

“As soon as I’ll admit to false charges of evading taxes and hand over my fortune, I shall be released.”

“Then why are you still here? The money is doing you no good. Its only value is to buy your way out of this place.”

“I won’t give it up!”

“Your wealth landed you here, my friend, and your wealth will purchase your release. More importantly, paying the ransom will free you from the money itself, for wealth is also a prison. The man who takes it from you will only increase his bondage.”

“This is nonsense!” The man mumbled an obscenity and turned away.

Apollonius spoke in a low voice to Lucius. “I think that fellow is not quite ready to receive my message.”

“What about me?” said another man, stepping forward. He was tall and solidly built but his hands trembled. “I could use some courage. They’re taking me to face the emperor this very afternoon. I think I shall die from fear before that happens.”

“Take heart, my friend. I myself just came from the emperor’s presence, yet you can see that I emerged unscathed.”

“But everyone knows you’re fearless. How do you do it?”

“I thought of an example I would not be ashamed to follow. You can do the same.”

“But what example did you think of?”

“I remembered Odysseus and the peril he faced when he entered the cave of Polyphemus. The Cyclops was gigantic, and far too strong for even a hundred men to overmaster. With its single eye, the creature was almost too hideous to look at, and its booming voice was like thunder. Strewn all around were human bones, the remains of past meals, for the Cyclops was an eater of human flesh. But did Odysseus take fright? No. He considered his situation and asked himself how to get the better of an opponent too powerful to be overcome by force and too vicious to be reasoned with. Yet, Odysseus left the lair of the Cyclops alive, and with most of his companions alive.”

The first man who had spoken, who had asked Apollonius about the shearing of his hair and the pain caused by his shackles, spoke up again. “Are you comparing our emperor to the Cyclops? Are you saying he should be blinded?”

Apollonius whispered in Lucius’s ear, “I suspect this fellow is an informer. His previous comments were not to commiserate with me, but to goad me into speaking ill of Domitian.” Apollonius answered the man, “What do you think, my friend, of the man who put you here among us?”

The man shrugged. “I have nothing good to say about him.”

“Would that every man could have such a mild temperament! Have you no harsh words for the man who confines other men to such a foul place, who cuts their hair and puts them in shackles, who extorts their wealth, whose famous cruelty causes them to tremble when they’re called before him?”

“Naturally, I feel as the others here must feel.”

“And how is that? By all means, speak freely,” said Apollonius. “You can say whatever you like in front of me, for I am the last man in the world to inform against another. No? You have nothing to say? As for myself, what I have to say to the emperor, I’ll say to his face.”

“That’s telling him!” said the man who had been fearful of meeting the emperor. There were nods and grunts of agreement. Clearly, many in the cell already suspected the informer.

Apollonius stepped back, as if he were done speaking, but the other prisoners implored him to keep talking. “Tell us more,” said one of them. “The worst thing about this place is the boredom. Tell us about your travels. You’ve been all over the world.”