Letter 102.12

[The beginning is damaged.] ... and my wrestling trainer had me by the throat. But what story, you ask? After my father had returned home from the vineyards, I mounted my horse as usual and set out along the road. I had gone a little way when, there in the road, a great many sheep were standing packed together, as happens in narrow places, with four dogs and two shepherds, and nothing more. Then one shepherd, after he saw rather a number of horsemen, said to the other, "Watch those riders; they are the sort who usually do the worst plundering." When I heard that, I struck my horse with the spur and drove him into the sheep. The frightened sheep scattered; some here, some there, wandering off and bleating. The shepherd hurled his fork, and it fell on the rider who was following me. We escaped. So the man who was afraid of losing a sheep lost his fork. Do you think this is a fable? It really happened. There was more I could write to you about it, but now the messenger is calling me to the bath. Farewell, my sweetest teacher, most honorable and rarest of men, my charm, my love, my delight.

to his master. . . . . and my wrestling-master had me by the throat. But what, you say, was the story? When my father had got home from the vineyards, I, as usual, mounted my horse and set off along the road, and had gone some little distance when I came upon a number of sheep in the road huddled together, as happens when there is little room, with four dogs and two shepherds; that was all. Then one of the shepherds, seeing our cavalcade, said to his mate, Marry, keep an eye on those mounted fellows, they be rare hands at pillaging. Hearing that, I dug the spurs into my horse and galloped right into the flock. Frightened out of their wits, they ran helter-skelter bleating and fleeting in all directions. The shepherd whirled his crook at us. It fell on my equerry who was following me. We got clear off. So it chanced that he, who feared to lose his sheep, lost his crook. Do you think this a fiction? It really took place: yes, and there is more I could write to you of that adventure, but here comes the messenger to call me to my bath. Farewell, my sweetest of masters, most honoured and most unique of men, my joy, my treasure, my delight.

ad M. Caesarem 2.16 [34 Hout; 1.150 Haines] <Magistro meo.> <...> et meus me alipta faucibus urgebat. Sed quae, inquis, fabula? Ut pater meus a vineis domum se recepit. ego solito more equom inscendi et in viam profectus sum et paululum provectus. Deinde ibi in via sic oves multae conglobatae adstabant, ut locis solet artis, et canes quattuor et duo pastores, sed nihil praeterea. Tum pastor unus ad alterum pastorem, postquam plusculum equites vidit, “vide tibi istos equites”, inquit, “nam illi solent maximas rapinationes facere”. Ubi id audivi, calcar equo subpingo, ecum in ovis inigo. Oves consternatae disperguntur; aliae alibi palantes balantesque oberrant. Pastor furcam intorquet; furca in equitem, qui me sectabatur cadit. Nos aufugimus. Eo pacto, qui metuebat, ne ovis amitteret, furcam perdidit. Fabulam existimas? Res vera est; at etiam plura erant, quae de ea re scriberem, nisi jam me nuntius in balneum arcesseret. Vale, mi magister dulcissime, homo honestissime et rarissime, suavitas et caritas et voluptas mea.