She left it to me to decide whether or not to tell you this after she was gone. I could not bear to do so, nor did I see any reason to. Until now. For her story so disturbed my own peace of mind that I undertook to discover, if I could, the fate of her child – your son. Our so-called Dominus often holds court at his retreat outside Alba, where I am obliged to follow. I have used my position to obtain information from the local people and from the sisters who concealed the birth.
In recent days, I have found reasons to suspect that the exposed child was rescued – “harvested” (as they say) by a professional scavenger of exposed children and raised as a slave. (I am told such slaves are commonly called “foster children” and that this lucrative practice is widespread.) I have sought to find this boy – a task made possible, perhaps, by a characteristic which distinguished him as a baby: the second and third toes of his right foot are joined to the outermost knuckle. As yet I have not succeeded, but I am hopeful that your son may yet live and that I can locate him – though whether such a discovery would bring you joy or sadness, I do not know.
In the event that this letter should reach you after my death, I attach some of the information which I have thus far uncovered. If anything should
The letter ended with an unfinished sentence.
Lucius put down the scroll. The revelation about Apollonius did not disturb him; he knew that the Teacher was a master of illusion, and he felt privileged to have served him in any capacity, with or without his own full knowledge. But the news about Cornelia and the child struck him like a thunderbolt. In retrospect, the reason for her withdrawal to Alba seemed painfully obvious. Why had he not guessed that she was pregnant? Why had she not told him?
He understood, at last, why she had mouthed “Forgive me” as she descended to her tomb. She was talking about the child.
The love he had felt for Cornelia, which he had so assiduously sought to bury along with everything else from the dead past, suddenly welled up inside him. The knowledge that he had a son changed his perception of the world in an instant.
No matter how long it took or how difficult the task, Lucius was determined to find the child.
AD 100
“When Vespasian saw that the treasury was empty, he filled it up again by looting Jerusalem,” said Trajan. “For us, the obvious solution is the conquest of Dacia. The loot of Sarmizegetusa would be enormous. Imagine what I could build with all that gold!”
The emperor was holding a private conference in one of the more modest reception rooms in the House of the People. He sat alone on the dais. Plotina and Hadrian were seated in their own chairs nearby, one to each side of him. With his marriage to Trajan’s grandniece Sabina, Hadrian was now an in-law of the emperor as well as his cousin, and Trajan frequently included him in his deliberations. Plotina’s participation in all important discussions was taken for granted.
“The gold mines of Dacia and the hoard of King Decebalus are legendary,” said Hadrian. He spoke slowly and carefully, not out of caution but because he was making a concerted effort to get rid of his provincial accent, which a year ago had been even more pronounced than Trajan’s. More than once he had overheard a veteran courtier making fun of the emperor’s Spanish accent. Trajan seemed to have no interest in changing his speech, but Hadrian was determined to speak Latin like a born Roman, and was taking lessons to learn to do so.
They were discussing the treasury and the means by which it could be replenished. Taxes were unpopular. Conquest was the preferred means, and had been throughout Roma’s long history, as Plotina pointed out.
“The great generals of the Republic destroyed Carthage and took Spain and Greece. The Divine Julius conquered Gaul; the gold and slaves he captured made him the richest man in history and helped make him the sole ruler of the empire. The Divine Augustus took Egypt, the oldest and richest kingdom in the world. Vespasian sacked Jerusalem and brought back enough gold and slaves to build his amphitheatre. When one looks at the map” – she gestured to a painting on the wall – “what remains to be taken of any value, except Dacia?”
“Or Parthia,” said Trajan, stroking his chin and gazing at the vast empire that dominated the far-eastern portion of the map.
“There are dangers, of course,” said Hadrian. “Even the Divine Augustus was thwarted when he tried to make slaves of the Germans. And no Roman has yet succeeded in taking Parthia; the empire is simply too big and too powerful. Dacia seems ripe for the picking, but that, too, presents a risk. Domitian did his best to get the better of King Decebalus and repeatedly failed.”
“That’s because Domitian was a military genius only in his imagination,” said Plotina.
Hadrian nodded. “Certainly, Caesar is a far better military man than Domitian, but is he not also a better diplomat? Rather than attack King Decebalus head-on, perhaps the best strategy would be to win over the king’s neighbours and allies, using statecraft to isolate the Dacians before directly confronting them.”
“The less blood shed by Romans, the better,” Plotina agreed. “Never forget what becomes of Roman soldiers when they’re captured by the Dacians. They’re handed over to the Dacian women, and the tortures inflicted on those poor men are the stuff of nightmares. If the way of conquest can be made easier by diplomacy, all the better.”
“Might we not also send agents to tamper with the Dacians’ religious ceremonies?” suggested Hadrian.
“How would that be of use?” asked Trajan.
“The Dacians’ most important religious ceremony is an event held every five years, at which a youth is sacrificed to their god, Zalmoxis.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” said Plotina.
“Nor have most people outside Dacia,” said Hadrian. “Zalmoxis was once a man, a Dacian who became a slave and then a disciple of the Greek philosopher Pythagoras. After Pythagoras freed him, Zalmoxis returned to Dacia and became a healer and religious teacher in his own right. He died but was resurrected, and preached to the Dacians about the immortality of the soul before he finally left this world for the next.”
“Don’t the Christians also worship a man who became a god?” said Trajan. “Or is it a god who became a man?”
“There are similarities in the two religions,” acknowledged Hadrian, “but the worship of Zalmoxis is much older. The most important ceremony is held once every five years in a cave in the holy mountain of Kogaionon, where Zalmoxis spent three years in seclusion. A chosen youth is cast onto the points of three lances. His mission is to die, and then to deliver the requests of the Dacians to Zalmoxis in the other world. But sometimes the youth fails to die. If that happens, the messenger is deemed unworthy and another is chosen, but the omen is very bad.”
“When does the next such ceremony take place?” asked Trajan.
“According to our spies, the next five-year ceremony will take place in just a few months. This has caused me to wonder, Caesar, if Roman agents inside Dacia might somehow sabotage the ceremony, and by doing so spread doubt and dissension among the Dacians.”
Trajan laughed heartily and slapped his knee. “Little Greek! Only you could sift through all that foreign gibberish and find a way to use it to our advantage. Perhaps that endless education of yours will turn out to be more useful than I thought. I love this idea! By all mean, yes, instruct our agents in Dacia to make a shambles of the upcoming ceremony.”
“And if they should be uncovered?” asked Plotina.
“We’ll disavow any knowledge. Decebalus will assume the agents originated from enemies within his own court.”