Suddenly he was on his feet. “Come with me, I’ll show you something.”
Torches flared along the walls, casting puddles of yellow light in the darkness. The emperor pulled Pliny along by the arm down one echoing corridor after another. Here and there they passed a sleepy Guardsman, who straightened to attention and clapped his fist to his chest at the emperor’s approach. Occasionally they saw a harried clerk bent on some late errand who cringed as they passed him. But all was stillness. They turned corners, passed through shadowed courtyards, mounted and descended flights of stairs until Pliny had no idea where he was. The Minotaur’s labyrinth might have looked like this, he thought. It was not a thought to give comfort.
And at every turning, he noticed those polished disks of moonstone, as big around as shields, mounted on brackets high on the walls. He had seen them before, on the night of the “black banquet.”
“You know why I’m having those things installed? I’ll show you, I’ll turn my back, you hold up some of your fingers.” Pliny obeyed. “Three! Am I right? You see? With these mirrors everywhere, no one can sneak up behind me and…” he drew his thumb across his throat.
“But, sir, you don’t really mean…?
“Don’t I? But they’ve tried already! Why do you think I’ve had to execute so many? The governors of Egypt, Asia, Britannia, and Germania. Two Praetorian commandants. More senators than I can count. My cousin Clemens, and my cousin Sabinus before him!” He raked his hands through his few wisps of hair. “Do you think I like putting people to death? Do you think I enjoy scorching genitals and cutting off hands? Justice is my watchword! But I tell you, my friend, that an emperor is the unhappiest of men, for nobody believes that people are trying to kill him until someone finally succeeds! Any Roman senator with an army behind him can dream of becoming emperor. My own father did it.”
This remark reminded Pliny of his schoolboy Plato: the tyrant is never happy. Here was the living illustration of that truth.
They turned another corner and, to Pliny’s surprise, found themselves back at their starting point. Aurelius Fulvus was there now, quaking on his knees, surrounded by the lictors. He tried to speak but Domitian silenced him with a look.
“Verpa’s papers—have you examined them yet?”
“Yes, Caesar, we’ve gone through everything but we’ve turned up nothing of interest.”
“Not a horoscope or anything touching on a plot against my life?”
“Certainly not. I would have reported it at once if we had.”
Domitian kicked the man in the chest and sent him sprawling. “Get out! And I command you not to sleep until you have found a letter and a horoscope. Your life depends on it, Fulvus.” The lictors dragged the prefect out.
Pliny swallowed hard and felt himself swaying on his feet. He had no love for Fulvus, but violence terrified him. Domitian threw an arm around him, guided him to a chair, leaned toward him. “Plinius Secundus, I love you. You’re the only honest man I know. You won’t betray me, will you? I need someone I can talk to—not that reptile Parthenius. I’ll have his guts out of him soon enough! Be to me as your uncle was to my father.”
“Caesar, you honor me too much.”
“But you went too far at the funeral.” Domitian jabbed him in the chest with a blunt finger. “Your uncle wouldn’t have done that.”
“No, no, sir, no he wouldn’t. Blame it on my inexperience, sir. I was overzealous. I will apologize to Scortilla and to the Priest.”
Domitian smiled for the first time. “Don’t worry about Alexandrinus. I’ll settle him down. Frankly, I don’t like the man myself.”
“Caesar, are you aware of Verpa’s legacy to the Iseum, two million sesterces for an embalming works, entrusted to Alexandrinus?”
The emperor looked at him narrowly. “Of course I’ve heard of it. True devotion. Admirable. Are you suggesting something? I’m a legatee in the will myself. I would not like to see it held up in probate.”
“No, Caesar, of course not.”
A silence fell between them. Then, “You’ll be at the sacrifice tomorrow? You’re a true Roman, Pliny, not like these foreigners who surround me. And I’ll send for you again tomorrow night, my only friend. Now leave me, I’m tired.”
Domitian enfolded Pliny in his powerful arms and kissed him on both cheeks.”
The same carriage that had taken him away deposited him back on his doorstep. It was growing light in the east. How long had he been gone? As in a nightmare, time was distorted. Pliny was shaken to the depths of his being.