“But one who is unmoved even by the sting of a personal injury, who understands how magnanimous it is for one whose power is unlimited to allow himself to be wronged.”

I sat alone in my garden at Brundisium, the sea wind cutting through my tunic. A servant stumbled and dropped a bowl I had just set down; he looked up with tears in his eyes, trembling as if he feared my hand would fall on his shoulder. I let the silence stretch until his fear turned to wonder.