Hippocrates tells us. It is an affliction of the brain. I’ll put it as simply as I can. Veins lead up to the brain, the two biggest ones come from the liver and the spleen. These veins carry our breath to every part of the body. Now, there are impurities in the brain of the unborn infant which normally are purged before birth. But if this does not occur then the brain becomes congested with phlegm, which is one of the four bodily humors. If the cold phlegm flows into the veins, the sufferer becomes speechless and chokes, he gnashes his teeth and rolls his eyes—your symptoms exactly. This is all because the phlegm clogging the veins cuts off the air supply to the brain and lungs. The patient kicks when the air is shut off in the limbs, and cannot pass through to the outside because of the phlegm. Rushing upwards and downwards through the blood, it causes convulsions and pain, hence the kicking. The patient suffers all these things when the phlegm flows cold into the blood, which is warm. In time the blood warms the phlegm and the patient recovers his senses. There is no curse. Do you understand me?”
The boy sat up suddenly, wrenching away from his mother’s embrace. “Then there is a cure?”
“Ah, well,” Marinus stroked his beard. “That is more difficult. Diet sometimes helps. But honestly, at your age, a cure is unlikely.”
“Then it’s still a curse. How can I live like this?”
“Julius Caesar managed it rather well,” Suetonius struck in. “Had it all his life. Most people never suspected. I invite you to read my biography of him when it’s published. I’ll send you a copy.”
“But I’ve killed my father! That is the worst curse of all. What will they do to me?”
“Tell me,” said Pliny, “precisely what happened. Everything you can remember.”
“The sun was just coming up. We’d already ridden for two, maybe three hours up into the hills. I was cold, shivering. I begged my father to turn back but he wouldn’t listen. Then he said we should dismount and tie the horses to a tree and go the rest of the way on foot. He said the cave wasn’t far. “
“Do you know where it is?”
“No. The ground was steep and rocky. There was hardly a path that you could see. I was so frightened I could hardly stand up. I felt a fit coming on. Father grabbed my hand and dragged me along. I was crying and he was saying all these things about Mithras and how I would be a man he could be proud of. I broke away and started to run back. He came after me and threw me to the ground. We struggled and I picked up a rock and I hit him with it as hard as I could, here.” Aulus pointed the side of his head. “And then I fainted and that’s all I remember. When I woke up, the sun was low in the sky. And my father wasn’t there. I thought he had just left me. So I went home. I couldn’t find the horses. I had to go the whole way on foot and it was late at night before I got back. I expected him to be there and I was terrified of what he would do to me. But he wasn’t there. I must have wounded him mortally and he dragged himself off into the bushes to die. That’s where you found him, isn’t it?”
“And that’s what you told your mother?”
The boy nodded.
Pliny turned to Fabia. “And you kept his secret to save his life.”
“Should I have lost both of them?” she cried.
Pliny shook his head in amazement. “It’s the stuff of Greek tragedy, like something from the pen of Sophocles! Madam, I admire you—and I never expected to hear myself say that. Now listen to me both of you. We found Balbus buried, with his neck broken. There was no fracture of the skull. I don’t know who killed him or why, but Aulus is not guilty of his father’s blood.”
Chapter Twenty-six
“I once knew a woman,” Pliny said to Marinus, “who suffered from falling fits. Hysteria she said it was. When it came on her she looked just like Aulus.”
“Ah yes, similar symptoms but quite a different cause. Your woman friend had a wandering womb, or, at least, that’s the common theory. Aulus’ case is much more difficult. I feel for the lad.”
“I think telling him about