Pliny protested, “I was taken completely off guard! I had no intention of looking for signs of ‘guilt’ in anyone. You must believe me, sir.”
“Of course I believe you. But there is something to be learned from this. Listen to me carefully. A tyrant always seeks to involve the innocent in his crimes, to make them sharers in his guilt. You were being tested. That’s how it begins. And there will be more tests until, before you realize it, you will have become hopelessly compromised. And then you will be their creature, body and soul.”
With a pang, Pliny recalled Scortilla’s angry words to him: If Verpa was an informer, what exactly are you? He felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach.
“The banquet is over and done with,” Corellius continued, “and I think not much damage was done. The noble Nerva, I understand, saved the day. But now this Verpa business worries me. Mind you, I know nothing of the details, nor do I care to. The man was a pig. Whoever killed him deserves a statue in his honor. But I see danger here for you, precisely because you are conscientious and—forgive me, dear boy—still rather innocent.” Grimacing in pain, Corellius reached out a thin hand to clutch Pliny’s forearm. “There may be, ah, elements to this case that should not come to light. I know nothing for certain. Perhaps Domitian is hoping you will stumble across something that he very much wants to know without yourself grasping its significance.”
“What sort of something?” Pliny was half out of his chair in alarm.
“I’ve told you, I know nothing for certain. But Verpa had his finger in many things. Dear boy, I beg you, get out of this while you can. Drop the investigation.”
“By Jupiter, I’d like nothing better! But you’re wrong about this, sir. No one is using me. My instructions are merely to make a show of investigating, it being a foregone conclusion that the slaves are guilty.
“It’s been my own decision to probe somewhat deeper. I’m perplexed, I admit, but I think there’s nothing more mysterious here than simple domestic hatred, and I aim to prove it if I can. Anyway, I can’t possibly drop the case, not when I’ve been given the assignment by the emperor himself. I know you dislike him, but he is the emperor and I am bound to serve him as best I can. If I don’t, worse people will.”
“Dislike him?” Corellius’ grip tightened. “Do you know why I suffer this bodily torment? Because I want to outlive that brigand by just one day!”
Pliny froze. The old man’s unblinking eyes locked with his. He had just placed his life, Hispulla’s life, and perhaps many others’ in the palm of Pliny’s hand. If he reported that remark to the palace all of them would die very unpleasant deaths. And what reply should he make? Corellius was waiting for something. The thought flashed through Pliny’s mind: was this conceivably a trap laid for him? No! He forced the unworthy thought away. The greatest crime a tyrant commits against his subjects is the death of trust. After a long moment, he let his breath out slowly. “I’ll consider your advice, sir, as always. I’ll leave you now. You’re tired…” He cursed himself for his cowardice.
Corellius Rufus sank back on his cushions. “Yes, go along, now. I am tired. We’ll talk again.”
“Indeed, sir, I hope we will.”
“Dear boy…” His hands fluttered.
Pliny stopped in the open door and turned back. “Sir?”
“Never forget that in me you have a friend, that you can confide in me—about anything, anything at all.”
“Why, of course, sir. I know that.” Pliny hastened out the front door, calling for his bearers. Hispulla’s worried eyes watched him go.
Marcus Cocceius Nerva opened the latticed door that led from the garden to the tablinum and stepped into the room. He was angry. “That was a damned silly thing you said, my friend. And we’ve learned nothing by it. I, too, was at the banquet of the dead—to avert a potential disaster. Any one of those poor, frightened fools might have blurted out some scrap of rumor that could hang us. Pliny pretends to be all innocence, but I don’t believe him. He was put there to spy on us, and that is what he did. You can only thank Fortune that he didn’t learn anything.” Corellius tried to protest, but Nerva waved him to silence. “You think a fatherly pat on the arm will keep Pliny’s loyalty when Domitian tempts him with rewards beyond his dreams? You have all chosen me after being turned down by every other likely candidate. And, may Jupiter help me, I have consented. But I have the gravest doubts, my friend, the gravest doubts.” He was visibly shaking, whether with anger or fear was hard to say.