The Story So Far: All you need to know before reading Episode Five /  by Anthony Gibbins

Are you new to Legonium? Or have you forgotten some of what you have read? My advice would be to read or reread episodes 1 to 4. But, if that is not an option, this handy ‘story so far’ will bring you up to speed.

Marcellus is a painter who lives in a small loft apartment over a French restaurant (that sells pizza). He loves painting but it does not bring in a lot of money. He owes a lot of money to the bank, and if he falls behind in his payments he risks losing his home. As the story starts he needs $100 in a hurry. Luckily he has a picture of a ship for sale, a sailing ship (does that count as chiasmus?). It is hanging in the local tavern pool hall, the Montanus (Highlander).

The first time we see the Montanus, Claudia and Miranda have met there to play pool. Miranda is a police officer who protects the town. She lives in the apartment below Marcellus’. Claudia, among other things, has an enthusiasm for ancient monuments. Claudia returns to the Montanus and sees a sailor from out of town looking at Marcellus’ picture. She offers to sell it to him, then takes the $100 to Marcellus. Marcellus is happy and puts the money in an envelope.

Claudia had seen the sailor once before. In a complete homage-to-slash-rip-off-of The Cambridge Latin Course, the sailor enters the barber store of Alan and recites a rude verse. Claudia, at the time, was waiting for a haircut. But the barber was busy trimming the beard of an old man (whom we will see again, briefly, in episode 5). Alan seems very meticulous in hair hygiene. After each cut he sweeps the floor, puts the hair in a sack, and throws it in the dumpster behind the restaurant. This is labored by the story in ways that we can only hope will pay off.

The sailor is carrying a suitcase which he takes to a small room on the roof of the building that holds the pool hall. He hands it to a pair of criminal looking types, who give him a large diamond in return. They enter the small room to open the suitcase, but then the episode ends in something of a cliffhanger and we are told we will learn of the case’s contents in episode 5. So annoying.

There is a mysterious woman with ninja like skills who has been watching the small room on the roof of the building that holds the pool hall. Her name is… oh, we don’t know yet. We also saw her once on the roof of the bank. The bank is run by the bank manager, Augustus. He seems nice enough. He washes the bank clock himself, and seemed genuinely concerned when he received the memo saying that Marcellus might lose his home. But that is okay, because Marcellus has $100 in an envelope that he will take to the bank today.

There is at least one kid in town. He wears an awesome Space-Legoman t-shirt. And he was the only one to notice Pico as he ran through the restaurant to get to the kitchen. Pico is a cat who sometimes pretends that he is a dragon.

There. All caught up. *Smile*

Hello reader. It is a joy for me to see you here again. As the title signifies, today’s story is not about a person, but about an envelope.

the end of episode 4 /  by Anthony Gibbins

Another month, another episode of Legonium. I hope that you continue to enjoy the story and will return December 1st to discover what is in the suitcase. Remember that the entire pars quinta will be published on the first of the month, and that the blogs will continue day by day after that. Until then, I hope your days are happy ones.

Do you want to know what is in the suitcase?

Without a doubt! But it is not yet time to tell you (literally, to make you more certain). If you want to know what is inside, it will be necessary for you to return. I will wait for you. Bye!

cinematography /  by Anthony Gibbins

It can be very hard (almost impossible) to get a camera inside some of these small spaces. But here I think it worked to my advantage.

The man and the woman enter the room and open the suitcase with great care. Surely you want to know what is inside?

Gaius Plinius Secundus on diamonds and mining /  by Anthony Gibbins

Gaius Plinius Secundus was born in AD 23 or 24. His great work, Historia Naturalis, is an encyclopedic account of the natural sciences, interspersed with essays and digressions on the achievements of humankind and contains, according to Pliny himself, 20 000 facts, taken from 2 000 works by 100 authors. In truth, however, the work quotes over 146 Roman and 327 non-Roman authors! I’m not sure that the facts have ever been recounted. Here, as our sailor obtains a gemstone in exchange for a suitcase, are Plinius’ thoughts on diamonds and mining;

on diamonds

The diamond, known for a long time only to kings, and even then to very few of them, has greater value than any other human possession, and not merely than any other gemstone.

on mining

In some places we dig for riches, when our life style requires gold, silver, electrum and copper; and in others out of sheer self-indulgence, when gems and pigments for wall-paintings are required; and yet in other places we dig with sheer recklessness when iron is needed – a metal even more welcome than gold amid the bloodsheds of war.

We search for riches deep within the bowels of the earth where the spirits of the dead have their abode, as though the part we walk upon is not sufficiently bountiful and productive.

But what the earth has hidden and kept underground – those things that cannot be found immediately – destroy us and drive us to our depths. As a result, the mind boggles at the thought of the long term effect of draining the earth’s resources and the full impact of greed. How innocent, how happy, indeed how comfortable, life might be if it coveted nothing from anywhere other than the surface of the earth – in brief, nothing except what is immediately available.  

The woman gives a precious gem, taken from out of her pocket, to the sailor. The sailor, once the suitcase has been given to the woman, departs without a word.

precious stones /  by Anthony Gibbins

Everything I know about cool I learnt in 1994. That was the year of Pulp Fiction. Nothing, I learnt, says cool like some rough looking dudes, a mysterious suitcase and an Uma Thurman haircut.

I can’t tell you what’s in that suitcase, but our sailor has just asked these homines for a gem. What kind of gem?

ruby                             carbunculus

amethyst                     amethystus

jet                                gagates

opal                             opalus

moonstone                  lapis lunae

aquamarine                beryllus aeroides

emerald                      smaragdus

sapphire                      sapphirus

topaz                           topazos

garnet                         carbunculus garamanticus

Just between you and me, my money is on a diamond, adamas.

When the door has opened, two people, a man and a woman, greet the sailor suspiciously. ‘Do you have the gem?’ the sailor asks them.

First Declension Masculine Nouns /  by Anthony Gibbins

The first thing a textbook will tell you about First Declension Nouns is that they all end in –a. The second thing is that they are nearly all Feminine. The exceptions usually given are the Masculine Nouns poeta poet agricola farmer and nauta sailor (hence the subject of this post). But there are many more than these. Just for fun, here are a few;

agripeta one who strives for the possession of land alipta master of a wresting school athleta athlete conviva a dinner guest coprea a low-class buffoon (I wonder what a high-class buffoon is called) faeniseca a resident of the countryside grammatista a teacher of grammar or languages hippotoxota an archer on horseback lanista owner or trainer in a gladiatorial school pirata a pirate umbraticola a lounger in the shade.

These words are all considered Masculine because in ancient Rome they were considered a man’s domain. I see no reason not to treat then as Common is Modern Latin i.e. the Gender is that of the actual individual. That would make a happy (female) lounger in the shade an umbraticola laeta while a happy (male) lounger in the shade would be an umbraticola laetus. Here are a few First Declension Nouns that the Romans did consider Common;

accola a resident advena a stranger amnicola a riverside dweller draconigena one born of a dragon (that’s pretty awesome) and incola a native inhabitant.

Meanwhile the sailor is approaching that room situated on the roof. Holding his suitcase with his right hand he gently knocks on the door.

cui bono? and the Double Dative /  by Anthony Gibbins

At the age of 26, that great Roman patron, politician, and self-promoter, Marcus Tullius Cicero, made a name for himself defending Sextus Roscius against a charge of parricide. Cicero said this;

L. Cassius ille quem populus Romanus verissimum et sapientissimum iudicem putabat identidem in causis quaerere solebat "cui bono" fuisset. 

The famous Lucius Cassius, whom the Roman people used to regard as a very honest and wise judge, was in the habit of asking, time and again, "To whose benefit?"

He then went on to argue that as it was the prosecution themselves who had benefitted from the death of Sextus’ father, that they were the more likely murderers. QED.

cui bono? is arguably the most famous example of Latin’s Double Dative construction, so called because both cui and bono (a Pronoun and Noun respectively) are in what is called the Dative Case.

The first Dative (cui) refers to the person or thing concerned. The second (bono) to the role something serves. Here are some examples. canis est auxilio colono. The dog is a help to the farmer. Both auxilio help and colono farmer are Dative. haec sententia est exemplo discipulae. This sentence is an example for the student. Both exemplo example and disciplae student are Dative. cui bono? cui To whom [was it] bono a benefit?

On today’s page, Marcellus receives $100 from the sale of his painting. pecunia maximo adlevamento est Marcello. The money is a huge relief to Marcellus. Both maximo adlevamento huge relief and Marcello are Dative.

The money is a huge relief to Marcellus. He places it immediately in an envelope (involucro). Tomorrow he will carry the envelope to the bank.

doors, janitors, Janus and January /  by Anthony Gibbins

The word ianua means door. I have a very worn t-shirt adorned with a picture of Jim Morrison and co, and the word ianuae printed in that iconic Doors font. It’s now way too old to make out the image, but I’m loathe to throw it away.

The slave who stood by the door, both guard and greeter of guests, was a ianitor (the root of our janitor), or, if female, a ianitrix.

The god of doorways was Ianus. He was depicted with two faces, one turned in each direction, and he presided over the beginnings and endings of endeavors. He had a special relationship to war, and the twin gates of his temple would be opened at the beginning of aggressions and closed again at the return of, so called, peace. It is telling that at the time of Augustus the gates were said to have been closed twice in Rome’s more than 700 year history!

Finally, there is an adjective Ianuarius that means concerning Ianus. The month sacred to him, situated at the beginning and ending of the year, was the mensis Ianuarius, our January.

Claudia hurries straight to the home of Marcellus. She knocks on the door. The door having been opened, she hands over the money to the very happy Marcellus.