“While the Dacian women have their way with the poor agents,” said Plotina.
“Such men know the risks they take in return for the generous rewards I give them,” said Trajan. “Ah, but this discourse on Zalmoxis reminded me of the Christians.” He waved to a secretary, who brought him a scroll. “I’ve been asked by a provincial governor for official instructions on what to do about the Christians. Their refusal to pay allegiance to the imperial cult – indeed, to worship any of the gods – makes them a menace to society.”
“But their numbers are quite small, are they not?” said Plotina.
“One of my ministers estimates they account for five per cent of the population,” said Trajan.
“Respectfully, Caesar, I think that estimate is much too high, even in the Eastern cities where their numbers are concentrated,” said Hadrian. “The aggravation they cause is out of all proportion to their actual numbers. Most people see their flagrant atheism as a clear threat to the security of the Roman state, which has always depended on the favour of the gods. When a pious, law-abiding citizen – in Antioch, say – discovers that a Christian is living next door, that citizen is likely to demand that a magistrate do something about it.”
“And if the magistrate acts?”
“The Christians are arrested, incarcerated, and given a choice: recognize the emperor and the gods by the simple act of burning incense on an altar, or be executed.”
“And some of these fools actually choose to be executed?”
“These people are fanatics, Caesar.”
“What if the magistrate does not act?”
“People take the law into their own hands. Christians have been burned out of their homes and driven off, even stoned to death by angry neighbours. As you can imagine, that sort of thing causes a huge headache for the authorities in charge of keeping the peace.”
Trajan rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “But such incidents are rare, are they not? In my experience, whether one is in Antium or Antioch, most people try to get along with their neighbours and mind their own business, even if the neighbours are Christians.”
“And what of the legions?” said Hadrian.
“Surely a Christian soldier is a contradiction in terms,” said Plotina. “I thought these people were opposed to killing.”
“Nonetheless, there are reports of Christians being found among Caesar’s soldiers, where they greatly upset morale. A legionary who refuses to sacrifice to the gods before battle poses a clear danger to his comrades. No pious soldier of Roma wants to serve beside such people in combat.”
Trajan shook his head. “It seems to me that an official policy of aggressively seeking out and punishing this tiny cult would be a waste of resources, more trouble than it’s worth, likely to make people anxious and upset for no good reason. I certainly don’t want to reward these death-worshipping fanatics with the attention they crave. And I am determined not to follow the example of Domitian, who was ready to believe that anyone was a Christian if an informer told him so. Such an accusation became an easy way to blackmail or get rid of an enemy, which is one reason our estimate of the number of Christians may be inflated – there are more people accused of being Christian than there are Christians!”
Trajan waved to the secretary, who brought a stylus and wax tablet, and began to dictate. “Notes for my response to a query from a provincial governor in regard to the Christians: These people are not to be sought out. If brought before you and found guilty, they must be punished. But even to the last minute, if such a person should repent and consent to worship the gods, he should be pardoned. Anonymous accusations must play no role in any prosecution; such practices are a discarded relic of a previous time. The official policy regarding the Christians, in a nutshell, may be summed up thusly: ‘Ask not, tell not.’”
He turned to Hadrian. “There, what do you think of that?”
“Caesar is like a father who wishes to keep peace between his children, even the worst of them.”
Trajan was amused. “Speak freely, Little Greek! What do you really think?”
“I think that Caesar is perhaps tolerant to a fault. But that is the opinion of a man much younger and less experienced than Caesar.”
“Don’t rub it in!” Trajan laughed. “Erudite, pious, and clever is our Little Greek.”
“And don’t forget handsome,” said Plotina with a smile.
Hadrian nodded to acknowledge the compliment, but touched his fingers to one acne-scarred cheek.
“What else is on the agenda?” said Trajan. The secretary handed him another document. “Ah, the new census I commissioned. Can you believe that Roma has a million inhabitants? So many people!”
“And so much misery,” said Plotina. “I took a walk yesterday through the Subura. The squalour was shocking; so many children, dressed in rags and running wild.”
“The growing number of the destitute is not just a problem in Roma,” said Hadrian, “but in every city of the empire.”
“Domitian did nothing about the problem, of course,” said Trajan, “but Nerva instituted a system of financial relief for the children of the poor, and also for orphans. I intend to continue that relief. Perhaps we can even expand the system, if we can fill the treasury.”
“One hears there are more abandoned infants now than ever before,” said Plotina, “newborns left to die, not on remote hillsides but just outside the city walls. The situation is so common that people travelling along the roads think nothing of seeing the corpse of an infant lying in the gutter. Where do these unfortunate children come from, in such great numbers?”
“I was just reading a discourse by Dio of Prusa on that very topic,” said Hadrian. “He speculates that slave women, impregnated by a master or by another slave, often abort children, or else hide their pregnancies and then abandon the infant.”
“But abandoning one’s child to die – how could even a slave do such a thing?” said Plotina. After many years of marriage, she herself remained childless.
“Dio says that such a slave woman gets rid of her baby so as to escape the added slavery of having to raise a child that will simply become another slave for her master’s use.”
“What a vexing situation,” said Plotina. “So many problems, so much suffering.”
“And so very little we can do about it,” said Trajan.
“All the more reason, husband, that we must do whatever we can.”
Trajan smiled ruefully. “Speaking of Dio of Prusa, cousin, I almost regret introducing myself to the man. He’s taken the liberty of sending me a lengthy piece with the title ‘Oration on Kingship.’ He seems to expect me to read the thing and send him a reply. I don’t think he realizes that a man engaged in actually running the world hardly has time to read a long-winded compilation of helpful suggestions, however well intentioned.”
“And are his suggestions helpful?” said Plotina.
“Honestly, I tried to skim the thing, but it’s so full of high-flown phrases and obscure literary allusions that I couldn’t make any sense of it. Perhaps, cousin, you could read Dio’s oration and prepare a brief summary for me? Then I can send the fellow a suitable reply.”
“I’ve already read it,” said Hadrian.
Trajan raised an eyebrow. “He sent you a copy?”
“I think he sent copies to just about everyone he could think of. He’s distributed the oration far and wide.”
“The nerve of the man!”
“Dio wishes to have an influence on the world. To do that, he must influence the emperor. To influence the emperor, he uses the tool he knows best: words.”
“Words can be very powerful,” said Trajan.
“Indeed they can. Which is why it is better for Caesar to have these philosophers as friends rather than enemies. In point of fact, much of his advice is quite sound. I’ll read his oration again and prepare a summary which Caesar can read at his leisure.”