On their second day on the job, and in the following weeks, Desi and Feli at least had something to keep their minds busy while they worked at the baths. For Feli it was very hard to figure out who was who, whereas Desi could identify each individual by his voice and by how the others named him, and she could gauge his personality by what he said. Only, she had no idea what these men looked like, apart from their height and their heft. And for Feli, obviously, it was the other way round. But they worked out a method, based on the usual whereabouts of their customers within their private meeting room.
Desi briefed Feli regularly: “The general always settles down on the bench closest to the doorway, on the right. That’s where he was lounging the first time, and he always goes back to the same spot if possible.” And in the same way the other men had fixed habits. Humans are territorial animals. Thanks to this trait, while Desi reported the goings-on within the group when they had a moment alone, Feli knew who she was talking about.
When they got home at the end of the day, Sextus too would question his daughter eagerly, but there was not always anything new or interesting to report. Rufrius and his cronies had a tendency to repeat themselves, to rehash their grievances, and each afternoon’s conversations tended to be a copy of what had been said on the first day. The Pomponius family soon concluded that they were not getting any closer to solving the mystery that Claudia had so brilliantly formulated. However, Sextus kept identifying more of his daughter’s customers. He knew everyone who was someone in Roman politics.
Antonius was probably the equestrian Antonius Natalis, known to be a close friend of the praefect. Then you had Subrius Flavus and Flavius Scaevinus, who’d both been Tribunes of the Praetorian Guard, therefore old colleagues of Rufrius. And there were a couple of others that even Sextus couldn’t place.
“A real clique,” Desi commented.
“There’s no harm in meeting good friends on a regular basis.”
“And no point in staying on in sweltering Rome to do so.”
Then, sometimes, Desi was able to report a more interesting conversation, which really had her father salivating because it concerned his favourite topic: politics.
“This afternoon they had a lengthy debate about the sense and nonsense of the vote. Why even hold elections, when the emperor has all the power anyway? They were complaining that the Senate, although an elected body, had nothing more to do than to stamp its seal of approval on every decision submitted by the palace. Someone joked, ‘we will be stamping bread loaves and roof tiles next’.”
“They have a valid point,” Sextus sniggered approvingly, “it is a strange system, what we have nowadays.”
“Yes, but they seem to think that if the people were allowed to choose their leader in a genuine free election, their candidate would easily win from the emperor… but that doesn’t make sense: Nero is incredibly popular, am I right?”
“Yes, valid point too, my dear, but you forget one thing: every voting citizen is someone’s client, but no one is Nero’s client.”
“Or you could argue that every citizen is Nero’s client before all else. After all, he gives you grain and money too, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, clever girl, but I’m thinking of the system whereby I give my vote to Canio, and he gives that to his patron, who in his turn has another patron, higher up. Democracy is like the chain of command in an army, and I’m not sure this would benefit the emperor if things should ever come to a head… Could these men be contemplating a popular uprising?”
“I don’t think so, no. They were just griping as usual, banging on about the fact that Nero is just a young upstart with no legitimate claim to power. It made me sick to my stomach to listen to them.”
Desi had the feeling that the men at the baths were waiting for something, biding their time. As she rubbed their bodies with oil, scraped them clean with one of those wonderful brass strigils, she kept listening to the conversations and tried to figure it out. As it happened, the very first occasion when it became clear that something ominous was in the air, was when the subject of the Christians came up, one day.
The praefect (or ex-praefect) said to the poet (blackballed poet), “My dear Lucanus, the Christians have become the talk of the town this summer, and I was just thinking the other day: you were the first person who told me who they are, ergo I knew about them long before everyone else!”
“Yes, remarkable that,” Antonius (the sycophant) said, “one moment no one has ever heard of them, then before you know it they’re on everybody’s lips, and everyone pretends to know all about them.”
“That’s exactly how it works, Antonius! And it is not a coincidence that you heard about them from me first, Rufrius, because I am the one who spread these rumours in the first place. If you have a gripping tale to tell, and you repeat it for a while on the Forum, talking to the right people, it’s amazing how fast it will become public knowledge!”
“Why did you do that? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I wanted to wait and see if the rumours would catch on. Now we know they did. As for the reason I launched these stories, it’s because it might hurt Nero’s reputation. Believe it or not, there are quite a number of Christians living at the palace!”
Several men cried out, “How is this possible?” It seemed unbelievable that people with such vile beliefs could be tolerated at the palace, even by such a despicable upstart as Nero.
Lucanus burst out laughing, “Look at your faces, my friends! You don’t understand, do you? I’m talking about slaves! This thing is looking to become the religion of choice of the slaves… So the first time I ever heard about the Christians was at court, when I was still welcome there. It turns out that quite a number of slaves from Nero and Poppaea’s own household are Christians. The fool knows it full well, but he turns a blind eye.”
“Typical!” the old praefect growled, “but maybe we could use this. Do you think we could get some Christian slaves to kill their master, for instance, in his sleep?”
“Possibly, yes… after all, they believe in nothing. The only problem is: how can I approach those household slaves, now that I’m no longer welcome at the palace?”
“That’s not the only difficulty,” someone remarked, “right now Nero is holed up in Antium, to escape the heat, and we are here in Rome. What are we waiting for?”
Desi thought, “Good question!”
But then, the very next day, she understood. They had been waiting for someone. She and Feli were standing by the door, as usual, when the men came in from their workouts and wrestling matches. But for the first time the praefect addressed Desi directly as he entered the private meeting room.
“Blind one,” he mumbled, “I want you to make haste today. Got that? Tell the deaf one.”
Desi answered sluggishly, “Erm… very well… Sir,” staying in her role as borderline retard. Then she signalled to Feli as unobtrusively as possible, “He wants us to hurry up!”
Soon the men were clean, and started putting on their toga’s, apparently. Desi and Feli stood by the door, and the blind girl could hear it, as the men helped one another drape the ceremonial garments over one shoulder, under this arm and over that elbow in complicated folds. This was highly unusual; the men had always dressed very informally in light summer tunics. Someone muttered, “The fuss we have to make for the great Piso!” Another one remarked that a blind and a deaf slave were really of no use at all to help you get properly dressed.
“That reminds me,” Rufrius growled, “blind one, you and deaf one can leave us alone now. Off you go!”
Desi bowed her head slightly, and taking Feli’s hand, she left her post without a word. Her mind was reeling: what on earth was going on in there? As soon as they were out the door she wanted to stop, to discuss things with Feli, and to try to eavesdrop on what was going to happen next inside the room. But then Feli softly rapped her knuckles on top of Desi’s head and pushed her along, so that they kept moving swiftly. Desi didn’t resist: Feli always knew best. As they walked away along the echoing central hall of Nero’s baths, they could hear a whole group of men approaching the door of the meeting room. The man they called Piso and his retinue, no doubt. “Darn!” Desi thought, “I’d so like to hear what’s going on!” But Feli pushed her to the side, into a corridor, then they passed through a door and were outside in the open, hurrying along a colonnade. This was an inner court, a palestra with a peristyle all around it; you could hear the grunting and panting of the visitors wrestling, running, or working out. Then they turned off the arcade and took a corner, walking around a wing of the building, the sounds from the sports enclosure more muted now, and finally Feli stopped close to an outside wall. She made her friend crouch on the ground and placed her hand on the rough masonry right in front of her, and that was when Desi suddenly understood: a grate!
She could hear the men inside, speaking. There were probably some open windows high up as well, but they did not allow to distinguish any words being uttered. However, just one foot above the ground, gaps had been left open between the stones: a very simple airing grate made up of smaller building blocks. Maybe this also served to drain the water when the floors were flushed clean. The holes must have been at floor level inside the building. Lying down on her belly, Desi put her ear to one of the openings, and sure enough, she could hear everything.
“Well done, champion!” she signed to Feli, and then she listened intently.
Inside the room, the important visitor was still being introduced to the members of “our informal little group”. Apparently he’d left his retinue outside, so Desi realised that it wouldn’t have worked to linger by the door anyway. Then the newcomer, who’s voice Desi had never heard before, started delivering a little speech. Desi could just picture the men, including Rufrius, standing at attention in their ceremonial togas.
“Gentlemen, I was very flattered that you asked me to be your candidate, and the champion of your cause, and I would be delighted to use my name and my reputation with the people to foster your plans. However, after thinking it through carefully, I’ve come to the conclusion that your plans would never work.”
There was a hum of protestations from the men.
“Please, let me explain,” the visitor went on. He spoke slowly, in a deep, booming voice. Ideal for eavesdropping.
“I could easily get the Senate behind our cause, and we could get some kind of challenge organized. But then what? Nero too is much liked by the people; we are not at all certain we could prevail against him… and how do you propose to get the Praetorian Guard on our side? I believe Tigellinus is fiercely loyal to the young emperor.”
The speaker paused for effect and there was complete silence in the room. This Piso, whoever he was, could certainly speech like an old-school orator.
“Gentlemen, you may be certain of my sympathy and collaboration, but I want you to rethink your plans. We have to remove Nero, somehow, and Tigellinus, obviously. But then, if we succeed at that, we cannot expect elections: a new emperor will have to be put in charge. After all these years the people have come to expect that form of rule. It cannot be avoided. Only this time we will be talking about an emperor with restricted powers, completely under the control of the Senate. Such an emperor would be a primus inter pares, and the Senate would come into its own again.”
Now there was approving applause from the men in attendance.
“Think about it, gentlemen, and let me know your plans… discreetly. I have great faith in your abilities; I have high hopes. Thank you. Valēte!”
And with that, apparently, the man left the meeting.
“Of course I know who they are,” Sextus exclaimed enthusiastically, “Tigellinus Ofonius is the current Praefect of the Praetorian Guard. That makes him the most powerful man after the emperor himself.”
“Really? No wonder this Piso character wants those men to ‘remove’ him!”
Desi had just reproduced the “important visitor’s” little speech word for word for her father and mother. She was very good at that kind of thing, especially as the elegance of Piso’s speech had struck her. On their way home she had already done the same for Feli in sign language, that went without saying.
“Now, as for Gaius Calpurnius Piso,” Sextus went on, “he is a leading Senator. He was even Consul once, under Claudius, and he is a member of one of the oldest plebeian families of Rome. I’ve listened to his speeches on the Forum: he is indeed an impressive orator.”
“But I bet that on the Forum he was not talking about removing Nero and becoming emperor in his stead.”
“No, obviously not, but it is no secret that he wants more authority for the Senate, and some restrictions imposed on the powers of the emperor.”
“You’re sounding all star-struck again, PF, but I definitely heard this man encourage Rufrius and his cronies to plot against Nero and Tigellinus, and then please leave it over to him to become the new emperor!”
“You were eavesdropping on a highly confidential political meeting, dear girl, and men will say strange things in such a situation… but if Piso should ever succeed, though, wouldn’t that be something? The first plebeian emperor in our history!”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing those words from you, Pater. These men are just fantasizing about killing poor Nero! As long as I can remember you have told me I should honour the gods and the emperor. And now you are seriously saying that killing Nero might be a good thing? I don’t understand!”
“Desi has a point, Sextus,” Claudia intervened, “I find your attitude a bit disturbing too.”
“Well I’m sorry, cara, but there’s nothing we can do about this whole business anyway. And don’t forget that Nero himself also had to ‘remove’ a couple of rivals to seize power. Or at least his mother did it on his behalf. Then he had his mother removed, and more recently his first wife, as everybody knows. So yes, we have to honour the emperor, but we need have no illusions about how mere mortals achieve such a godlike status… Desi is old enough now to understand that.”
“Yes, but what do we do about this?” Desi wanted to know.
“Nothing, I tell you! It is out of our hands.”
“Couldn’t you at least talk to your patron, senator Canio?”
“He probably knows already… at least part of it. But it would be extremely dangerous for me to tell him more. Because then he would become aware of the fact that I know a lot of things that I shouldn’t… I wish you hadn’t told me… It would have been much better if you hadn’t eavesdropped, too.”
“That is also true, sweetness,” Claudia said, “what you did today was foolish and very dangerous. Promise that you’ll never do it again.”
“Erm… sure, darling Mater. At least now we know why these men don’t care much for summer holidays on the coast!”
Desi didn’t need to do more eavesdropping, she could hear everything while she was working and follow the latest developments step by step. Rufrius and his men were desperate to “rethink their plans” and find a solution to the conundrums that Piso had so brilliantly exposed. They came in from the baths earlier and earlier and discussed the topic endlessly. They were racking their brains.
Lucanus the poet was the first one who came up with something new. “I think it would be a good idea to find some fresh recruits, but only people who can really contribute something specific to the task at hand.” He explained that he was still on good terms with Petronius, the famous author, one of Nero’s favourites at court, who could help him gather intelligence, and could be very useful for editing propaganda material, as he was a very witty writer. “The only problem is that he’s utterly unreliable. Just like the Christians he believes in nothing! But if I handle him carefully, I can use him without him even realizing it.”
“Excellent idea,” Rufrius said, “I want you all to think hard along the same lines: do you know anyone who could serve our cause in any way, voluntarily or unwittingly?”
The next day Subrius and Flavius came in with good news. They’d heard from old comrades in the Praetorian Guard that Tigellinus’s deputy, the Joint Praefect Faenius Rufus, didn’t get along at all with his boss, but that he was quite popular among the elite soldiers. “Don’t you know him from the old days, Rufrius? If you tried to recruit him discreetly, he might listen to you.”
“Very good, my friends. I had rather lost touch with the man, but it is high time for me to renew our acquaintance, so much is clear.”
Then Lucanus reported that Petronius was back in town, because he needed to see his publisher about a work in progress. “I arranged to run into him on the Forum, and we talked. The famous author complains that Nero is avoiding Rome more and more. He’s not only staying in Antium to escape the heat, but he intends to spend the fall near Neapolis and the winter in Greece.”
“Yes, that’s going to be a problem,” Rufrius said, “unintentionally Nero is making it very hard for us to get near him.”
“Impossible, even,” general Paetus growled, “as long as he’s holed up in those far-flung palaces, in the middle of nowhere, we can’t attack him, it’s as simple as that.”
There was a long silence as they all pondered this. Then Antonius piped up, “Wait a minute, I’ve just thought of something… remember the great fire, ten years ago? Claudius was still emperor; he coordinated the firefighting in person; he called on the citizens to assist the vigilēs and paid them from his own purse… Now, with that precedent in mind, what would happen if Rome burned again? Nero would have to hurry back, he would have to go out and attend to the firefighting, inspect the damage, console the victims. And there would be chaos and disorder everywhere.”
“By Iove!” the others cried, “are you proposing to set fire to the city?”
“Gentlemen, please,” Rufrius interjected, “let Antonius speak… You don’t say much, ordinarily, my dear friend, but when you do speak, I must say that your ideas are quite out of the ordinary.”
“Just think,” Antonius went on, “what with the heat and the drought we’ve had in the past month, Rome has become a tinderbox, an accident waiting to happen… on the other hand, most people like us have already left, and those who are still here can be discreetly cautioned to leave as well.”
“The advantages are clear,” the general said, “Nero would have to go out and mix with the populace, like Claudius did at the time, and this would make him particularly vulnerable… that is when one of us—or anyone—could kill him and get away with it! And even if that didn’t work at once, in the long term he would be staying on in Rome, right where we want him, in order to coordinate the rebuilding of the city.”
“Yes, yes,” Rufrius said eagerly, “the situation would be completely changed… to our advantage.”
Desi thought, “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Once again. This is getting worse and worse: a complete nightmare!” She had to make a conscious effort not to frown fiercely; she knew all too well that she could barely hide her feelings, normally. “Oh Feli, you’re not going to believe this!”
Lucanus said, “Wait a minute, if we go through with this ungodly plan, I believe we’ll be taking a huge risk.”
“How do you mean?” the others asked.
“How will the people ever accept a change of regime from a bunch of arsonists? It doesn’t make any sense!”
“They will never know,” Antonius said forcefully, “how could anyone ever find out? Besides, to make sure no one suspects us, we will have to come up with a convincing scapegoat… maybe Nero himself?”
“That doesn’t make sense either. If he has just been seen by all doing all he can to help the victims, he will be more popular than ever.”
“Yes, but still very vulnerable, as I said,” general Paetus reflected, “but maybe you, Lucanus, have hit on the solution we need, when you told us about the Christians, the other day…”
“The Christians!” they all cried: that seemed to be an excellent idea.
“Yes, thanks to your own efforts, they’ve been in the news a lot lately; they make every Roman’s skin crawl; the populace will be baying for their blood!”
Then, a few days later, the whole conjuration seemed to have come to a head. The men had been very busy meeting people and making arrangements, then reporting back to the others in veiled terms. But none of the new recruits ever showed up at the baths. It was still the same “informal little group” from the beginning; in fact Piso had been the only visitor from outside. However, it became quite clear to Desi that these men were now working on the crazy and criminal plans they had recently agreed on. Even Lucanus no longer had any misgivings.
It was also clear that they were paying some of their accomplices to do the dirty work for them. At some stage Rufrius remarked, “For the time being we’ll have to pay these men ourselves, but don’t worry about that: soon enough we’ll recoup our investments with a handsome premium.”
So, on that day, when the praefect announced it was time for everybody—meaning the group—to leave Rome, she understood what was coming: the plan was about to be launched, meaning that some henchmen would be starting a great fire.
“Go to your country estates, my friends, and wait for news and further instructions. Make sure you bring your loved ones and all your valuables in safety. That will be all.”
He now stepped over to Desi and tapped her shoulder, which made her jump out of her skin, even though she’d heard him coming, but it was because he’d never touched her before; she only him. However, it was a good thing for her to act surprised, as if she hadn’t followed the conversation at all, so Desi simply grunted, “Huh?”
“Blind one, your services are no longer needed, we’re all going away to the country. Rome is getting too hot for us, heh-heh.”
“Erm… very well… Sir.”
Then the blind ‘slave’ raised her hand slowly and rubbed her forefinger against her thumb.
“Ah yes: the pay. I’ll pass by the freedwoman on my way out and settle my accounts. She’ll give you your due. Off you go, take the deaf one with you, yes?”
And so, all of a sudden, it was over. Cominia Gariliana told them to go home, that it could take a while yet before the man came over to pay her, that she would bring the money after closing time. Desi wondered if she should warn the good woman about the fire, but decided against it. She must live quite near and this was outside the city wall; and even if the fire spread this far, Cominia would be all right if she sought refuge in this huge stone building, with all that water around.
Then, as soon as they were on the street, at a safe distance of the baths, she started briefing Feli on the latest developments while they kept walking. “Can you imagine? They’re going to set fire to the city! We must do something to stop them; if only we knew some more details!”
Feli pulled her friend aside, gave the signal that she wanted to say something, so Desi faced her and raised her hands.
“Maybe this can help? There is something written on it.”
She placed a little piece of papyrus in her friend’s hand. A label, of the sort they attached with a piece of string to book scrolls, to indicate which work it is.
“What is this? Where did you get it?”
“It’s a message, I tell you. One of the men had a dozen of these labels on the couch by his side, and he was copying the same message over and over with a reed pen. They were all talking, and the scribe was not paying attention all the time, so when he was looking away, once, I managed to pinch this and hide it in my tunic, under my belt. I figured he would have lost the count; he didn’t notice a thing.”
“Well done, you’re a real champion again!”