Lucius lifted the chain over his neck. The small-headed creature snatched it from him and scurried to the dais. Domitian put the chain over his head and touched the fascinum, which nestled amid the folds of his purple robes. “Yes,” he whispered, “I can feel its power. Let it protect me today, blessed Minerva! And let this man’s presence protect me.
“My presence, Dominus?”
“Are you not a magician, Lucius Pinarius, like that accursed teacher of yours? There can be no doubt that some protective magic clings to you. That sort of thing rubs off on others. Today, I intend to keep you close at hand, until the fatal hour passes.”
Lucius smiled at the idea that he himself might be a sort of lucky charm. He was also struck by the curious reversal of their roles. Once he had stood before the emperor, a condemned man; now the emperor sat before him, convinced that he was the one facing death. Lucius had found peace when he confronted almost certain destruction, but Domitian was growing more agitated by the moment.
The small-headed creature gave a shriek and pointed to the water clock. The dial had touched the numeral V.
“Make sure the door is locked!” shouted Domitian. Catullus, who could move about the familiar room like a sighted man, stepped from the dais, strode past Lucius, and tested the door.
“Might I put on my clothes, Dominus?” said Lucius. “There’s a draft from the balcony.”
Domitian grunted and waved his hand.
Time passed with excruciating slowness. Lucius did not know what he had expected, but it was not this endless tedium. Was there not to be an attempt on the emperor’s life? What part was Lucius expected to play? Or was he simply to wait here until Domitian did or did not die, and then to die himself? It took all his presence of mind simply to stand in the middle of the room and show no emotion, as the time slowly passed.
Domitian fidgeted and sighed. His stomach growled. “Did you hear that, Lucius Pinarius? I’ve eaten nothing since yesterday morning.”
“Do you fear poison, Dominus?”
“It’s not poison that will kill me. I fear some drug that might render me unconscious and vulnerable. I’m hungry!”
“My stomach, too, is empty, Dominus.”
“Is it? I set aside some apples I was given yesterday, for my midday meal today – if I should live until then. They’re in the bowl on the table by my bed. Fetch one, Catullus, and give it to Lucius Pinarius. We’ll see if it makes him sick.”
Catullus brought him an apple. Lucius bit into the crisp flesh. Domitian watched him eat and began to salivate, so copiously that he had to wipe the drool from his lips. When Lucius was done, Domitian told him to get rid of the core by tossing it to the garden below. Lucius stepped onto the balcony. He dropped the apple core and watched it fall a great distance. Looking down made Lucius dizzy. The apple core struck and bounced off a large sundial in the garden below. The dial was an iron triangle set in a round stone pedestal. The day was too overcast for the dial to cast a shadow.
Lucius turned and looked at the water clock on the dais. The hour was almost done.
Domitian continued to fidget. He tugged at his chin and cracked his knuckles. He picked at the wart on his forehead. Suddenly, blood appeared on fingers. He gave a cry of alarm, then realized that it came from the wart. “Minerva, let this be the only blood I spill today!”
His cry brought a knock at the door. “Dominus, is something wrong?”
“Never mind, Parthenius,” called Domitian. “All’s well. But look, the clock has reached the sixth hour! It’s done! The hour has passed, and no harm came to me. Unlock the door and let him in, Catullus.”
The chamberlain Parthenius entered the room. Behind him, in chains and flanked by guards, was the German soothsayer, Eberwig.
“What do you say now, soothsayer?” demanded Domitian.
Eberwig muttered something, but there was no one present to translate. The guards pulled him to his knees.
“Strangle the fool,” said Domitian.
One of the guards wrapped a chain around the man’s neck and twisted it. Eberwig turned a dark shade of crimson. His eyes bulged and his tongue protruded. Domitian sat back in his chair, smiling. He appeared to take great pleasure from watching the man die.
The guards dragged the corpse from the room. Parthenius followed them. Lucius stayed where he was, on the balcony. By a great application of will, he had managed to remain calm for the last hour. Now his body began to exhibit signs of panic. His heart raced. His palms turned clammy. Sweat erupted on his forehead.
Did Domitian intend to kill him, as he had killed the German soothsayer? For the moment, the emperor was distracted. He told Catullus to bring him the bowl of apples from the bedroom. As the blind courtier walked by the balcony, Lucius held his breath, fearful of drawing the man’s attention. Catullus returned with the apples and Domitian began to eat ravenously, consuming one after another.
Parthenius reappeared. “The steward Stephanus wishes to see you, Dominus.”
“I’ll see no one,” said Domitian. “As soon as I finish these apples, I’ll retire to my private bath.”
“Stephanus is most insistent. He says it’s very important, Dominus. He says he has urgent information about a plot against you.”
“A failed plot, you mean! I’m still alive!” Domitian laughed. “But show him in. Perhaps he has names for me. Wait! Has he been searched for weapons?”
“Of course, Dominus. No one comes before you without being thoroughly searched.”
“Go ahead then, show him in.”
Lucius’s heart sank. The hour predicted for Domitian’s death had come and gone, and now he knew why: Stephanus had betrayed them. Poor Flavia; this would be the end of her. Would Domitian allow her children to live? Probably not. Lucius gazed over the parapet of the balcony, wondering if death by falling would be preferable to strangulation. He felt a sudden urge to flee, but the balcony was much too high. If only he could disappear, like Apollonius, in a puff of smoke!
The clouds had begun to break. A warm shaft of sunlight touched his face. The sky itself seemed to be smiling on the emperor’s deliverance.
Stephanus entered the room. Before he could speak, Domitian waved him aside. He called to Catullus and pulled him close.
“I’d almost forgotten about Pinarius,” Lucius heard the emperor say in a low voice. “What shall I do with him?”
“Whatever pleases you, Dominus,” Catullus said.
While waiting to be called on, Stephanus joined Lucius on the balcony. In his right hand he clutched a rolled document. Was this the incriminating list, and was Lucius’s name on it? Lucius noticed that the man’s left forearm was wrapped in bandages.
“A boar’s tusk can inflict a very nasty wound,” Stephanus explained, keeping his voice low. “It happened when I was out hunting a few days ago. Would you believe the guards made me unwrap the whole thing the first day I came here wearing it? Once they saw the blood and the oozing gash, they were satisfied. I think it made them a bit queasy. Since then, whenever I come, they search me like everyone else – but they never make me take off the bandages.”
Domitian finished his conversation with Catullus and called to Stephanus. The steward hurried to the dais, while Catullus backed away.
“Dominus,” said Stephanus, “the moment this document entered my hands, I headed directly here.”
“What is it?”
“A list of names, Dominus. When you see them, I think you’ll be shocked.”
Catullus stepped towards the balcony. Lucius moved as far from the man as he could. Again he gazed over the parapet. A shaft of sunlight stuck the sundial far below. Something was not right. Lucius squinted and peered more closely at the sundial. The shadow cast by the dial indicated not the sixth hour of the day – shadowless noon – but the fifth hour.