***
The horses reared and screamed as the earth heaved under them. Calpurnia was thrown to the ground half-stunned. Was this her punishment? Were the Furies coming for her? She looked up in time to see a tree—the very tree under which she and Agathon had coupled—lift its roots from the quivering earth and slowly, slowly fall toward her.
***
“Well, Governor, you surprise me. But you should have killed him, you know. It’s too late now. This is your last chance to be reasonable. I’m offering you a way out. Simply resign and go home, with or without your wife, it’s up to you. But if you refuse, consider that you are in my house, far from home. And though, as I have said, I personally dislike violence…”
The antique vases began to vibrate.
A bronze shield fell from its hanger with a ringing crash.
The bust of blind Homer, leapt from its pedestal and rolled crazily across the floor.
Diocles looked around, wild-eyed. “No!”
With a groan of splitting timbers, the floor buckled and the ceiling cracked. Pliny and Diocles were both on their hands and knees, Pliny nearest the door, which hung from one hinge.
Diocles, crouched against the farther wall, was trying to get to his feet when the wall fell inward, pinning him under a weight of brick and plaster. Pliny, in the doorway, glanced back and, through a choking cloud of plaster dust, saw Diocles stretch out his arm. “Help me!”
Pliny crawled back, picked up the marble bust of Homer where it lay and lifted it high. Their eyes met. “You won’t kill me,” Diocles whispered.
Pliny brought it down on his head. Again. And again.
Then he dashed for the door just as the ceiling collapsed in a cloud of choking dust.
Chapter Forty-four
One week later
The Nones of December
Pliny sat in his office—its walls disfigured with cracks and fallen plaster—numb with exhaustion, trying to pull his thoughts together as he dictated a letter to the emperor. Philo, his new secretary, sat beside him with his stylus poised. Zosimus had died on the journey back to Nicomedia without ever regaining consciousness. In the chaotic aftermath of the earthquake there had been no time to build him the splendid tomb he deserved. His ashes rested, for the time being, in an underground crypt on the palace grounds. Pliny had composed the epitaph himself.
Dedicated to the spirit
of Gaius Plinius Zosimus . freedman of Gaius .
who lived xxxiv years . viii months . and xv days
Best of scribes . best of friends
May the earth rest lightly on you
How inadequate those formulaic words to express his sorrow. He would have other secretaries, but never another Zosimus. He felt lost without him. He had decided to acknowledge little Rufus as his own son and raise him with all the advantages of his rank and fortune. That meant, of course, that Ione would have to stay on. He found her presence distasteful but the poor child, having just lost the man he believed was his father, could hardly be separated from his mother as well. If only he and ’Purnia could have raised the boy together…He drove his thoughts back to the task at hand.
…and so, Sir, the city is in need of architects and engineers to repair the damage to buildings which were already in a ruinous state from the previous earthquake. Destruction in the countryside is widespread too, with several villages obliterated. I am making what provisions I can for the refugees…
He had been in constant motion day and night, surveying the damage, issuing orders. It was the only thing that was keeping him sane.
…The province is mourning the loss of one of its leading citizens, Diocles, son of Hypatius, called the ‘Golden Mouth’, who died when his house collapsed. I have issued a proclamation in his honor…
In a moment of murderous rage he had killed a man with his bare hands. Was it possible? He had discovered something about himself that he would far rather not have known—how little it took to strip away the thin skin of civilization, of humanity and reveal the savage that lives in all of us. He knew it would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. The body was eventually found, crushed almost beyond recognition, and given a public burial. To expose Diocles publicly as a criminal now would be impolitic. The cult of Mithras was no more. Some of its members had escaped detection but in time he would find them out. Pliny had already written to Trajan informing him of Balbus’ corruption and the arrest of Didymus for his murder. More than this he would not entrust to a letter; time enough when he returned to Italy (which he prayed would be soon) and made his report to the emperor in person.
Balbus’ widow has asked me to intercede for her. I suspect she was not innocent in his corruption but now she has lost not only a husband but a son as well. It think it befits your magnanimity not to confiscate her property…
He hoped he would never lay eyes on the woman again. Where she should have begged, she demanded. And she seemed, in some unreasoning way, to be blaming him for Aulus’ death. That poor boy. In all this sad business his death seemed to Pliny particularly tragic. What might he have made of himself if he had lived?
…I am deeply indebted, Sir, to my senior lictor, Titus Asinius Galeo, to whose courage and quick thinking I owe my life twice over. I ask that you enroll him in the equestrian order. I myself will endow him the necessary four hundred thousand sesterces…
A soon as the ground began to shake, Galeo had raced to Diocles’ apartment, where he found Pliny staggering through the doorway. He had half carried him to the courtyard and then, leading the other lictors, gone back inside for Marinus and Zosimus and got them out before the whole building fell in.
There had been many dead among the guests—not, however, Agathon. Ironically, Pliny mused, he had probably saved the boy’s life himself by driving him out into the courtyard just before the quake hit. And what should he do about him now? Banish him? Have him murdered? The act of a tyrant. No, he would not stoop to that. And any move he made against Agathon might only bring the whole story out into the open. For the moment he would do nothing and rely on the boy’s innate cowardice to seal his lips.
…finally, Sir, I have dealt with a most troublesome character—one Pancrates, an oracle-monger who dabbled in sedition. I have arrested him and, with your permission, will have him taken under guard to an island in the Propontis where he will live out his life.
Pancrates had a large and loyal following in the city. Pliny knew he was taking a risk. But perhaps this was the best time to strike, when the people were distracted by their own misery.
“Thank you, Philo. You’ll see that that’s sent off at once.”
The young man bowed himself out.
And now for the letter that he dreaded writing—the one he must write to Calpurnia’s grandfather. He would write this one with his own hands; he did not want the scribe to see him weeping.
Calpurnia had vanished.
Suetonius said she and Aulus had gone out to the cave, but when he went with a search party to look for her they could find no trace. The cave itself had vanished. He had lost her already in a way—lost her love—but that was no consolation. Her death was more than he thought he could bear. He would forgive her her infidelity a thousand times over if he could only see her dear face again, hear her voice…
Suetonius knocked and came in. “Is this a bad time…?”
“No, it’s all right.” Pliny wiped the back of a hand quickly across his eyes.
It pained Suetonius to see him like this, grey-faced with grief and exhaustion. He wanted to put an arm around his shoulder, but he was afraid he might not tolerate the familiarity. He had tried once before to talk to him about Calpurnia but Pliny had cut him off. For a man with such a talent for friendship, Pliny was the one now who needed a friend—and yet he couldn’t allow anyone into his private world of pain.
“At last, we’ve had a letter from the emperor!” Suetonius did his best to sound enthusiastic. “The courier says the Via Egnatia has been blocked for weeks by one
blizzard after another.”
Pliny touched the familiar objects on his desk, avoiding his friend’s eyes. “Read it.”
Suetonius unrolled the scroll, studied the page for a moment, and cleared his throat. I am delighted, my dear Pliny, to hear of your safe arrival in the province. You must be diligent in examining the financial accounts of the cities, for it is clear that much is amiss. Still, in every province trustworthy allies can be found if you carefully seek them out. I needn’t tell you what great confidence I place in your judgment. Please do not hesitate to consult me when questions arise. Trajan.
Post scriptum: The empress sends her fondest greetings to your lovely wife who, we both feel, will be a support to you in the difficult days ahead.
Suetonius went out, closing the door softly behind him.
***
“She still doesn’t speak?”
“A god has taken away her wits.”
“Broken her shoulder and one leg too. Scratched up her face pretty badly.”
“All that, I can mend,” the healing woman said. “Was it you who found her?”
“My son. He and his brother were out looking for our scattered livestock.”
“Here, dearie, sip this.” She held out a cup of boiled herbs to the figure that lay on a bed of rushes in the little hut
“So many of our own are injured, why bother with her?”
“Money in it maybe? Look at her fine clothes.”
“If we knew who her people were.” The headman got off his haunches and went out.
“Now, dearie,” the healing woman leaned close and whispered, “just who are you?”
FINIS
Appendices
I. The Roman Calendar
In the Roman calendar, each month contained three ‘signpost’ days: the Kalends (the first day of the month), the Nones (either the fifth or the seventh), and the Ides (the thirteenth or fifteenth). After the Kalends was past, the days were counted as so-and-so many days before the Nones, then before the Ides, and then before the Kalends of the following month.
The story takes place from the second half of September to the beginning of December. The signpost days with their English equivalents are as follows:
The Kalends of October
October 1
The Nones of October
October 7
The Ides of October
October 15
The Kalends of November
November 1
The Nones of November
November 5
The Ides of November
November 13
The Kalends of December
December 1
The Nones of December
December 7
II. Roman Time-Keeping
Romans divided the day, from sunup to sundown, and the night from sundown to dawn into twelve horae. As the length of the day and night varied throughout the year, one of these ‘hours’ could be as short as forty-five minutes or as long as seventy-five. In September, when the days and nights are of about equal length, the hora came closest to our standard sixty minute hour. The first hour of the day in September was about 6 am. The sixth hour was noon; the twelfth hour, sundown. And similarly, the first hour of the night was about 6 pm, the sixth hour was midnight, and the twelfth hour was the hour just before dawn. By December, the daylight hours were several minutes shorter and the nighttime hours correspondingly longer.
III. Greek and Roman Money
The smallest unit of Greek coinage was the obol. Six obols = one silver drachma. 100 drachmas = one mina. Sixty minas = one talent. A Roman silver denarius was roughly equivalent in value to a drachma. Four bronze sesterces = one denarius. Large amounts of money were generally expressed in sesterces.
Glossary
Agora: marketplace in a Greek city
Archon: a senior magistrate of a Greek city
Capsa: a cylindrical tube for holding scrolls
Chlamys: a Greek man’s cloak
Cursus publicus: the public post
Eques: a member of the equestrian order, the lower rung of the Roman aristocracy
Fasces: the bundle of rods enclosing an ax carried by lictors
Fides: faith, loyalty
Garum: a condiment made of fermented fish parts
Gynekeion: the women’s quarters in a Greek house
Hetaera: a paid female companion/entertainer
Insula: a tenement building
Janitor: a door slave
Krater: a large bowl for mixing wine and water
Latrunculi: Literally ‘brigands’, a board game something like checkers
Lictor: a Roman magistrate’s bodyguard
Ludus Magnus: the imperial gladiator school in Rome
Mathematicus: astrologer
Matrona: a married woman
Megaron: the central hall in a Greek house
Mehercule: by Hercules!
Mentula: penis (vulgar)
Mare Nostrum: Our Sea (the Roman name for the Mediterranean)
Mystes (plural mystae) : an initiate in a mystery religion
Nymphios: bridegroom
Optio: a Roman army rank second to a centurion
Palaestra: exercise ground
Palla: a Roman woman’s mantle
Paterfamilias: the oldest male in a Roman family
Secutor: a heavy-armed gladiator
Stade: Greek unit of distance,approximately an eighth of a mile
Synposion: a drinking party
Tabellae: a pair of wooden leaves coated with wax and joined together with string
Tablinum: the office or study in a Roman house
Theriac: a compound believed to be a universal antidote against poisons
Tribunal: dais on which a magistrate or judge sat
Triclinium : dining room; arrangement of three couches, each holding three diners around a rectangular table
Univira: a woman who has known only one man
Venator: a gladiator who fights wild beasts in the arena
Vitis: Centurion’s cudgel made of a vinestock; his symbol of authority
Author’s Note
Bithynia-Pontus
Pliny served as governor of the province of Bithynia-Pontus (in present day Turkey) in AD 109 or 110 with a special commission from the emperor to bring order to that troubled province. His dispatches to Trajan, and Trajan’s replies, are recorded in Book Ten of the Letters. Although our plot is fictitious, the background of embezzlement, waste, financial mismanagement, and political turbulence is abundantly documented, not only by Pliny, but in the orations of Dio Chrysostom (“Golden Mouth”), who is the model for the character of Diocles. It may be mentioned in passing that Nicomedia did suffer a severe earthquake while Pliny was governor. He describes it in a letter to the emperor and notes that the absence of a volunteer fire brigade (forbidden by Trajan’s injunction against voluntary associations) made the destruction that much worse.
Mithraism
There is, at present, no archaeological evidence for the practice of Mithraism in Bithynia. Our cave and its locale are entirely fictitious. Nevertheless, one leading scholar of the religion places its origins in the Persian influenced region of Commagene in south-eastern Anatolia, and it would be odd if the cult entirely leapfrogged Bithynia on its way west. In any case, the early second century AD saw the remarkable burgeoning of the cult in areas as distant as Africa, Germania, Britain, and Italy. What we don’t know about Mithraism is a great deal more than what we do, and no detail of its ritual and theology is beyond dispute. If there were Mithraic scriptures, the Christian church made sure that they did not survive. If there was a Mithraic Saint Paul, he is unknown to history. Yet it is hard to imagine that the religion was able to spread as far and as fast as it did without energetic proselytizing by someone. Christians regarded Mithras as a blasphemous imitation of their own savior god (who also has strong solar associations). Although vestiges of the cult may have lingered in some places, it had effectively ceased t
o exist by the end of the fourth century AD.
Suetonius
Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus (circa AD 69 to circa AD 140) is well-known only as the author of The Twelve Caesars, the biographies of the emperors from Julius Caesar to Domitian (the principal source for Robert Graves’ I Claudius novels). But among the many other works attributed to him are Lives of Famous Whores, Roman Festivals, Roman Dress, The Physical Defects of Mankind, and Greek Terms of Abuse. None of these has survived in more than fragments. What a loss! Suetonius did serve under Pliny in Bithynia, though precisely in what capacity is not clear. In a letter to Trajan (X 94) Pliny writes: “For a long time now, my lord, I have admitted Suetonius Tranquillus, that most worthy, honorable, and learned man, into my circle of friends, for I have long admired his character and his learning, and I have begun to love him all the more, the more I have now come to know him from close at hand” [Trans. P. G. Walsh]. Suetonius went on to serve as private secretary to the emperor Hadrian—a post from which he was eventually dismissed for some impertinence to the empress.
Pancrates
The name is borrowed from a famous magus of Hadrian’s reign but I have modeled him mainly on the oracle-monger, Alexander of Abonoteichus, who flourished in the later second century AD. The Greek satirist Lucian, in a delightful essay, describes his encounter with the man and his oracular snake (see Bibliography). I have given to Pliny the stratagem Lucian employed to expose the charlatan.
The Sacred Disease
Epilepsy was described by Hippocrates (circa 5th century BC) in his essay On the Sacred Disease. The Father of Medicine argued that the disease was not ‘sacred’ at all but the result of an imbalance of phlegm, one of the four humors in his system of physiology. Needless to say, it continued to be regarded with superstitious dread up until the dawn of modern medicine (see Bibliography).
Bibliography
Primary sources:
Dio Chrysostom. Discourses. Translated by H. Lamar Crosby. Loeb Classical Library, 5 vols. 1946
The Bull Slayer: A Plinius Secundus Mystery Page 25