Empire (86 page)

“Have you?”

“Toiling away on my collection of imperial biographies. I’ve been writing about Domitian lately—that could put anyone in a bad mood. I was wondering, did your father ever talk about those days? In particular, did he ever mention a ‘black room’? Apparently there was a chamber in the imperial palace to which Domitian invited certain guests when he wanted to frighten them half to death.”

“No, I don’t remember any stories about a black room.”

“Ah, well, plenty of others have stories to tell. I have to say, some of the tales I’ve collected about the emperors almost defy belief. They’re quite shocking, and all the more so because they’re true. I rather hate to end my collection with Domitian—such a grim fellow—but one can’t yet write this sort of biography about Trajan or Nerva, the emperor’s father and grandfather by adoption. One never knows what might cause offense. Even the most flattering account might somehow provoke the emperor’s displeasure.”

“Caesar is letting you write whatever you want about the previous dynasties?”

“Amazing, isn’t it? Everyone in a position of authority assures me that I
may proceed as I wish. My biggest worry is what the emperor will say about my prose. Hadrian fancies himself a writer, you know. Architect, emperor, author, literary critic—is there nothing the man can’t do? His own specialty is collecting odd bits of information and compiling catalogs of marvelous facts. His book will be forthcoming any day now. Of course he can’t publish such a thing under his own name, so he’s having his creature Phlegon put his name on the book. Trivial, time-wasting miscellany—just the sort of thing everyone’s reading nowadays.”

“Not a work of true merit, like your imperial biographies?”

“Exactly. Perhaps you’d like to read what I’ve written so far. I could profit from the reactions of a fellow like yourself, a man of learning and experience but with no literary pretensions or axes to grind. Shall I have a copy sent to you?”

“Yes, please do,” said Marcus, just to get rid of the man. He was eager to return to the studio, where he could be alone to contemplate his progress on the statue of Antinous.

A few days later, while he was preparing to leave home for the workshop, an imperial messenger arrived with a request for Marcus to come to the House of the People.

“Do you know why I’m being summoned?” said Marcus.

“I’m afraid not,” said the messenger.

Marcus was perturbed. His work on the statue had progressed to a stage that was particularly pleasurable to him—smoothing and polishing the stone and making very small adjustments. Now he would lose the best part of the day, when the light was brightest, and he would have to go through the bother of changing his simple tunic for a toga.

The summons also made him uneasy. If Hadrian was curious about progress on the statue, why did he not simply come to see it? Could it be that Suetonius’s visit to the workshop had been observed and reported to the emperor? Surely Hadrian knew Marcus well enough by now to trust that he would never show the statue to anyone ahead of himself. While he dressed, Marcus decided that he was being unduly anxious. Probably there was some architectural detail about the temple that Hadrian wanted to discuss.

The chamber where Hadrian received him was tastefully appointed with Greek furnishings brought back from his travels; the room had the intimate atmosphere of a private home rather than of a regal reception hall. The slave who escorted Marcus showed him to a couch and brought him a cup of wine. A number of guests were already present, and more continued to arrive. Antinous was there, Marcus noticed; the empress Sabina was not. Some of the guests were senators and magistrates, but more were writers and philosophers. The mood was like that of a literary gathering. Almost all the men sported facial hair, though few could grow a beard as handsome as that of the emperor.

Eventually Hadrian rose and called forth the scholar Phlegon of Tralles, a small, nondescript man whom Hadrian introduced as the author of a new work titled
The Book of Marvels
. Phlegon stood before the company and read a number of excerpts, all of which he claimed had been verified by scrupulous research, having to do with wondrous things—sightings of live centaurs, appearances by ghosts, incidents of males giving birth, and stories about men and women who had changed their gender. He concluded with several accounts about the discovery of gigantic teeth and bones, the existence of which appeared to prove that huge creatures, now extinct, had once lived upon the earth.

“ ‘A tooth the size of man’s leg was uncovered by an earthquake in Sicily and shown to the emperor Tiberius,’ ” Phlegon read. “ ‘Tiberius called on a geometrician named Pulcher, who concluded that the creature who possessed such a tooth would have been as large as a ship—far larger than any creature known to exist today. Bones of gigantic size were found in a cave in Dalmatia, and equally enormous bones have been excavated in Rhodes, Athens, and Egypt. Some say these objects must be made of a stone which happens to look like bone, or are deliberate hoaxes, but I say we should not disbelieve this remarkable evidence. Rather, consider that in the beginning, when nature was in her prime, she reared everything near to the gods, but just as time is running down, so also living things have become smaller and smaller in stature.’ ”

Phlegon bowed. Marcus saw that Hadrian was beaming like a proud author. He remembered Suetonius’s claim that the emperor was the true author of the work and joined the others in applauding.

After this bit of amusement, Hadrian moved on to more-serious matters.

“Our attention has been called to the recent death of a citizen, a case of murder, it would appear. A slave is suspected of killing his master.”

There were mutterings of disdain from some of the guests, especially the senators.

Hadrian raised his hand. “As outrageous as such a crime may be, I bring up the matter because I see here an opportunity to reform certain laws handed down to us by our ancestors, specifically those harsh measures which demand the examination, by torture, of all the slaves in a household where such a crime occurs, and, if one of their number is found guilty, the execution of every slave. Marcus Pinarius—”

Marcus blinked and looked up, surprised at being called on.

“I asked you here today, Pinarius, because your grandfather once made an impassioned speech to the Senate on this very topic, in the reign of Nero. You are aware of that occasion, I presume?”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Yes, Caesar, my father told me something about it.”

“I realize you never knew your grandfather, but you should be proud of what he said. Fortunately, his words were recorded and preserved in the Senate archives. I read them for the first time last night. Phlegon, would you be so kind as to read aloud the section I’ve marked?”

Phlegon took the scroll and stood before them again. “ ‘These slaves must be known not only to fellow slaves in other households, but to shopkeepers and artisans and all sorts of citizens who have dealings with them. Some are errand boys and messengers, some are seamstresses and hairdressers, some are cooks and cleaners, some are bookkeepers and scribes, highly educated and valuable slaves deserving a degree of respect. Some are near the age of death. Some are newborn, just beginning life. Some are in the prime of life, at the peak of their usefulness and value. Some are pregnant and about to bring forth new life. These victims of the law are not a faceless crowd but are human beings known to their neighbors, and so we cannot be surprised if there are murmurs throughout the city that the law is too harsh.’ ”

Hadrian nodded and took back the scroll. “I think those words are quite remarkable, considering the occasion and atmosphere in which they were delivered. Your grandfather spoke of those doomed slaves as if they were human beings, not mere property; as if their suffering
mattered. At the time, your grandfather’s sentiments were rebuked and ridiculed; but with the passing of the generations, and the general progress of mankind, I think we are able to see that your grandfather was not only brave and compassionate, but wise. As the Divine Trajan often told me, if the emperor can see a just way to reduce the suffering of those under his care, even the most wretched, he is obligated to do so. In the case at hand, I think we have an opportunity to do exactly that. Therefore, I am proclaiming a number of edicts involving the punishment of slaves.

“First, if a master is murdered in his house, no slaves shall be examined under torture except those who were near enough to have knowledge of the murder. This reform has been a long time coming.”

There was a murmur of approval. A number of people nodded deferentially to Marcus, in honor of his farsighted grandfather.

“Further,” said Hadrian, “a master may no longer kill a slave at will. Instead, the execution of a slave must be decided by a court. Further, no master may sell a slave, male or female, to a sexual procurer or a trainer of gladiators, unless the master can make a case that the slave is fit for nothing else. Further, I intend to abolish the existing houses of hard labor to which some masters consign their unwanted slaves for a fee, and where even some wretched freedmen end up, so desperate are they to work off their debts. I have visited those workhouses, which are places of unimaginable suffering, and I intend to shut them down.”

The emperor’s pronouncements were met with silence. Hadrian looked around the room. “Does anyone wish to comment on these ideas?”

A white-haired, clean-shaven senator stepped forward. “Caesar, today you have introduced us to a work called
The Book of Marvels
. But more marvelous than anything in that book are these radical ideas you put before us. I drew a breath when I heard about a tooth from a creature the size of a ship—but my jaw dropped to hear that a Roman citizen shall no longer have the power to discipline his slaves as he sees fit. I fear that Caesar’s new laws are likely to be very unpopular, and not just with the rich, who own many slaves. Consider the common man, who owns only a handful of slaves. Unless his authority over those slaves is absolute—yes, even to the point of death—how can that man possibly feel safe inside his home at night? Our forefathers created these laws for a reason, and the Divine
Augustus restated them anew. I fear these pronouncements will stir considerable discontent, and such disorder that the magistrates will be unable to contain it.”

Hadrian raised his hand for silence. “If disorder breaks out, then I will hold the magistrates responsible. It is their duty to contain such outbreaks, whatever the cause, and to see that laws are respected—all laws, including these. If the magistrates cannot do the job, then others who are more capable shall be appointed to take their place.”

The senator bowed his head and stepped back. No one else dared to comment.

“If there’s no other business this morning, then I’m ready for my lunch,” said Hadrian.

As the various courses were served, the emperor called Marcus to his side.

“What do
you
think of my ideas, Pygmalion?”

“I’m not a statesman, Caesar.”

“Perhaps not, but your grandfather was. Who knew? I had to check twice to be sure that the Pinarius who gave that speech before Nero and the Senate was indeed your grandfather. That took nerve. You can be proud of the blood in your veins, Pinarius.”

“I am, Caesar. Thank you for inviting me here today, to hear the words of my grandfather.”

“Yes, I thought you might enjoy that. How goes work on the statue?”

“It proceeds well, Caesar, and quickly. Very soon I’ll be ready to unveil it for you.”

“Very good!” Hadrian looked at Antinous, who was sitting next to Phlegon, scrolling through
The Book of Marvels
. “I can hardly wait to see it.”

At last, Marcus was ready for the emperor’s visit to the workshop.

Apollodora was with him, overseeing the slaves as they cleaned and tidied the place and decorated it especially for the occasion. Marcus had assured her that such preparations were unnecessary. “It’s a workshop: it’s supposed to be cluttered and covered in marble dust. The emperor knows
that.” But Apollodora had insisted that all must be perfect. If Hadrian was pleased—and of course he would be—this could at last be Marcus’s opportunity to ask for a special favor: the return of his father-in-law from exile.