Saviour of Rome [Gaius Valerius Verrens 7] by Douglas Jackson

Gaius Plinius Secundus sat on a couch in the portico with one foot raised. He had put on weight since Valerius had last seen him and heavy jowls gave him a mournful air quite at odds with his normally cheerful disposition. The couch was surrounded by low tables, most filled with scrolls, but one left clear for his writing tools. Pliny had a voracious appetite for knowledge, always reading or investigating, collecting specimens, testing out new theories and disproving old ones.
    He looked up as Valerius came into view and managed a pained smile. ‘You have never been more welcome, Gaius Valerius Verrens. Pallas?’ A young man stepped from a doorway behind him. ‘Have the main guest room prepared for my friend and tell the cook there will be two for dinner,’ Pliny ordered. ‘I did not expect you for another week at the earliest, or I would have had you met at the harbour. Not personally, of course, as you can see. You’ll have a cup of wine?’
    ‘I will, Pliny, but I’m sorry to see you like this.’
    ‘I’m suffering from a touch of gout. It won’t kill me but it makes movement difficult. Hippocrates suggests it is caused by an overindulgence in drink, food and sex.’ He produced a wry smile. ‘While I plead guilty to the first and second, I’m afraid the third is long behind me these days. You had an uneventful journey, I hope?’
    Valerius nodded. ‘It gave me time to read the reports you sent to Rome.’
    ‘Yes.’ Pliny sounded doleful. ‘Would that they had been more optimistic. But I prefer not to talk on an empty stomach. After dinner I will give you a more up-to-date view of the current situation. Now,’ he picked up his stylus, ‘Pallas will see to your baggage and get you settled in. I must finish this chapter of my
Historia Naturalis
. The subject is medicines we can obtain from plants. Did you know that
Colchicum autumnale
, the common meadow crocus, can be turned into an infusion which is a specific for gout? Unfortunately, taken in excess it is also a deadly poison and I choose not to test the theory.’
    ‘Then I will leave you to your work,’ Valerius bowed.
    They dined on succulent steaks of tunny fish and squid cooked in its own ink, followed by a pair of roasted fowl and slices of apple and pear coated in honey. The food was served on silver platters and Valerius smiled at a memory. ‘The last time we ate together, it was on chipped fireclay in your kitchen,’ he said. ‘Who would have believed our fortunes could have altered so radically?’
    ‘That’s true.’ Pliny washed his fingers in a bowl brought by one of several slaves who attended them. ‘We have much to be thankful for, you and I. For instance, it is sometimes difficult to believe that I once watched the friend sharing my table kneel beneath an executioner’s sword. There are few alive who can claim such an experience. It still puzzles me that Domitian saw fit to commute the death sentence to exile.’
    The observation contained a certain measure of query, and if anyone deserved the truth it was Pliny, who had risked his reputation by speaking for Valerius at his trial. But Valerius had learned to be wary. Only two other people knew of Domitia Longina Corbulo’s intervention, and the reason for it. Better it stayed that way.
    ‘There’s nothing he would have liked better than to see my head rolling in the dust,’ he admitted. ‘But the letter Mucianus brought from Vespasian rescinded my original death sentence and he couldn’t go against his father’s express wish.’
    ‘An emperor’s favour is not to be underestimated, nor disdained.’ Pliny’s features took on a troubled air. ‘For instance, I honour him for this appointment, but there are times when I wish I was alone with my books back in Rome. Any proconsulship would be a burden for an honest man with the Empire’s interests at heart, but this is doubly so. When Vespasian summoned me to the Palatine he told me the man who solved the conundrum of the