Bruce Macbain - Roman Games

“ Mehercule, Purissima, I-” But Pliny didn’t finish his thought because at that moment he heard a noise behind him. He spun around and saw Martial making for the door.

The second hour of the day.

A breathless Stephanus was ushered quickly into Corellius Rufus’ tablinum where the others still sat in tense conversation. He addressed himself to Parthenius. “I’ve just seen your poet outside Pliny’s house. Pliny knows who she is, claims that she murdered Verpa. What else he guesses isn’t certain, but if he takes her in to the Prefecture and they torture her we’re all done for. Even now she may be telling him everything.”

There was tight-lipped silence around the table. Suddenly Nerva leapt up. “This has gone far enough. I must have been out of my mind to listen to you, Parthenius. It’s time to abandon this whole mad scheme.”

“Senator, you surprise me. You were brave enough at our little charade two weeks ago. What has happened to you?” The chamberlain’s voice was silky, although his stomach was shot through with arrows of pain. “I’m afraid things have progressed beyond the point of turning back.”

“Not for me! Domitilla was banished before you approached me. She can’t give them my name.”

“No, but I could,” Parthenius said softly, “and, though I admire the Stoical virtues, I fear they will desert me in the face of torture. No, Nerva, there is no going back now. You are our choice for emperor, suited to the job in every way: respected, uncorrupted, known as a friend of ancient Roman liberty.” Nerva had not been their first choice, but he was definitely their last; it had to be him. What was there to recommend him? Old age and ill health. He would die soon and then the real search for a successor could begin.

“Guttersnipe,” Nerva snarled, “you talk to me of Roman liberty! You care for nothing but your own well-barbered neck.”

“All our necks at this point.” Parthenius voice got lower as Nerva’s grew shriller. “Please sit down, senator. You’re not going anywhere until the Praetorian Guard proclaims you and then you will go to the palace and be hailed as Caesar. And I will be there applauding with the rest.”

The grand chamberlain turned back to the others. “This man Pliny needs to be dealt with now. He is too dangerous. Even if we called off the assassination, he would still live to denounce us. We need to get the Purissima out of that house at once and Pliny cannot be allowed to live. Are we agreed? I want each of you to cast his vote in the presence of us all.” Parthenius looked at each one in turn. “Cocceius Nerva Caesar, if I may call you so. As our future sovereign, I defer to you. How do you vote?” Nerva composed his face with an effort, made an angry gesture with his hand. “Death by all means!” “Thank you. And you, Empress?” “This man, Pliny. Who is he?” “A lawyer, a quite junior senator.” “How long has the family been senatorial?” “He is the first to reach that rank.” “He has powerful protectors?” At this, Corellius looked away in shame. He had been powerful once. No more. “No, Empress,” Parthenius answered. “No. His uncle had some influence with Vespasian.” “Vespasian has been dead a long time.” “May I compliment your majesty on your understanding of affairs.” She ignored the compliment. Her dark, deep set eyes were as hard as a gladiator’s at the moment of the kill. “Death, then.” “And the rest of you?” The chamberlain’s gaze swept the room. “Petronius?” “I will drive the sword in with this hand!” The Praetorian commandant made an upward stabbing motion with his fist. “Thank you. Entellus?” “Death.” And so on as he proceeded around the room until he came finally to Corellius Rufus. “Senator?”

A red spot burned in each of his withered cheeks. “He’s a good man. His only crime is obedience to orders. Perhaps if I speak to him…” “Yes, you tried that already,” Nerva sneered. “It was not a success.” “Sir, I ask you again. There is no more time for talk. Your vote. We are waiting.” The invalid’s face twisted in anguish. “Death.” “Sir, I could not hear you.” “Death!” “Thank you, sir.”

“He won’t outlive the hour,” Petronius growled, jumping to his feet. “And I’ll bring the Purissima back here to wait until it’s over. I’ve already given sealed orders to my tribunes to neutralize the City Battalions when the hour comes.”

“And we,” Parthenius said, nodding to Stephanus and Entellus, “must be back at the palace before we’re missed. The emperor will be calling for me soon. Is everyone clear about the plan?”

They nodded.

“Then may Fortune favor the brave!”

Pliny drew a long, deep breath and shook his head. What a story she had told, and he didn’t doubt the truth of it for an instant. Knowing what he knew, how could he hand this woman over to certain death? Before he decided what to do, he needed to know more. “What were you doing in Verpa’s house?”

She shook her head, her lips a tight white line.

“Purissima, you would do better to tell me than to have to tell it to the emperor.”

“He won’t be emperor much longer if the gods favor us. And if not, I am content to die. I am already polluted by a man’s touch, I can never return to the service of the goddess.”

Pliny raised his hands, then let them drop in his lap. “You leave me no choice then, Purissima.” Now was the moment to stand up and call for his litter. But somehow he didn’t move. They continued to stare at each other.

“Very well,” she said finally. Anything to keep him here while the others did their work. “I will answer your question, vice prefect, and then I beg you not to oppose us but to join us.”

“Join you in precisely what, madam? Treason?”

Her eyebrows drew down sharply. “Liberation!” She leaned close to his face and began to tell him, though without naming names, how their plan to put Clemens on the throne had been thwarted by Verpa’s denunciation. Then, how weeks later Verpa had contacted them, claiming to have an incriminating letter from Domitilla as well as her husband Clemens’ imperial horoscope. “We had to know how much she had told him, or if it was all bluff. And so Iatrides and I talked our way into his house and spent four days with that vulgar, vicious family.” Her lip curled. “All the while, as I smiled and made myself agreeable, I listened as hard as I could. Whenever they questioned me too closely I became faint, and not all pretense either, the strain was nearly unbearable. During those days I tried to be wherever I could overhear Verpa talking. That was my plan, and it bore fruit.

“As I have already told you, on the third evening I was sitting in the garden and overheard Verpa and his son arguing; Lucius demanding to be free of potestas and live on his own, Verpa threatening to kill him if the boy tampered with any more of his bedmates. What I didn’t tell you is that I also heard Verpa boasting about the letter and horoscope. I decided right there that I would steal them if my courage didn’t fail me. The next morning I wrote a message and gave it to poor Iatrides to carry to the cloister.

“Late that afternoon, I was in my room resting when Verpa burst in. He showed me Iatrides’ severed finger with his signet ring on it. He said he had mistrusted both of us right from the start, that he wasn’t as gullible as Scortilla. It was plain that I was no devotee of Isis. He had questioned me at dinner about some detail of the goddess’ liturgy. I had tried to learn something about that filthy foreign cult before I entered his house, but I was quickly out of my depth. And he had discovered that Iatrides was a fraud too. He’d asked him for a dose of some Isiac remedy for headache and, of course, the poor man had no such thing. ‘So I followed your physician,’ Verpa said, ‘and we got him before he could deliver your message, took him to a very private place, and oh, the things he told us when we applied fire to his genitals. I’ve just come back from there.’ He laughed at me. ‘Really, Purissima, what a dishonorable trick you’ve played me! I expected better than this from a priestess of Vesta. I am through wasting time with you and your friends. Tomorrow, I go to the emperor. At one stroke I can give him the documents and another deceitful Vestalis Maxima to bury alive. That is, unless you do exactly as I tell you. I can keep your name out of it if I choose to. I have done everything in a long and interesting life but debauch a Vestal Virgin.’”