Nest of Vipers (41 page)

One week later: Jesus of Nazareth is
crucified in Judea for aspiring to be
King of the Jews

Albucilla was quietly thrilled that Ahenobarbus's younger sister had come to her. Having no sisters of her own, and with all her family hooked on the Gemonian Stairs, she wanted nothing so desperately as to belong to the House of the Aemilii. And now here was Domitia treating her as if she did. Nilla, Ahenobarbus's legitimate wife, had been ignored.

Albucilla drew her arm around her frightened 'sister-inlaw'. 'You must tell me what has upset you, Domitia, and how I can help.'

'No one can help. I am trapped by it.' Domitia began to cry.

'Trapped by what? What has happened to you?'

'This marriage,' Domitia said bitterly. 'It is obscene. Not a marriage at all.'

Albucilla was alarmed. 'Is your husband starving you? Is that why you look so thin?'

'Of course not. I'm thin because I have no appetite for food.'

'Oh Domitia.'

'My sister Lepida's marriage was bad. Her husband ignored her – and worse, he ignored their little girl. I prayed that when my own union came, it would never be with so loveless a husband. My sister is a widow now and she's never been happier. And here I am imprisoned in my own corner of wedded hell, and it's a thousand times worse than hers ever was.'

Albucilla thought she'd guessed what Domitia seemed reluctant to say. 'Your husband – is he . . . unable to consummate?'

Domitia looked up with a start. 'Of course not. He got that over with on our wedding night. He did his duty and he continues to do it. Even when I weep, he still goes through with it. He knows what's expected.'

Albucilla was lost. 'What is it, then? What does he do to you that's so bad?'

'It's what he does to himself.'

'Ah.' Convinced she had the answer now, Albucilla wondered what Domitia would think if she knew of the pleasure she and Ahenobarbus gained from pain. Domitia was plainly an innocent. She had not received the benefit of an education at Capri. 'As long as he only hurts
himself
,' Albucilla said to her gently, 'no harm can really come from it. And he promises never to try that stuff on you.'

Domitia stared at her like she was simple. 'Try that stuff on me? It
is
my stuff. He wears my clothes, Albucilla – all my gowns and shoes. He wears my underthings and even my veils. He tries them all on and parades about. He treats me with kindness, constant kindness, but my wardrobe has become his property.' She sniffed at her
stola
. 'Every single thing I wear smells of him!'

Albucilla wanted to laugh. 'He's – he's a transvestite?'

'If that's what it's called, then yes, that's what he is.'

'Oh Domitia, you've got off lightly,' Albucilla beamed at her. 'So many wellborn wives end up with real monsters for their grooms.'

'I don't think you understand,' Domitia began to say.

'Of course I do. So he puts on your clothes? Let him. What harm does it do? I bet Rome is full of such secretive men.'

'You don't understand,' Domitia said again, with an edge to her voice. 'He is Drusus, the second son of Agrippina, who is locked up in a prison without charge. His older brother, Nero, is already an exile and his younger brother, Little Boots, is a captive on the Emperor's island.'

Albucilla was silent.

'My husband is the son of a damned house, the House of Germanicus – damned by Sejanus. My sister believes it is a marriage blessed by Veiovis, but she is wrong. It is devoid of glory. The marriage was meant as a warning to Drusus, a humiliation. I am the daughter of a traitor, and the message meant for my husband was that I am all he is worthy of – a traitor's seed.'

Albucilla couldn't believe this was possible. 'No, Domitia, surely –'

'Nilla was given the same message. Why else force her to marry my idiot mute brother?'

'Ahenobarbus is a good man –' Albucilla began.

Domitia raised a hand. 'There is another message in the marriage, and it's meant for
me
, the traitor's child.'

'Another?'

'I can be redeemed. I can remove my mother's stain from myself and from my unborn children. I can then move on. I can gain another marriage, a better one. But only if I show Sejanus my loyalty with a gift.'

'What gift? What do you mean?'

'An accusation,' Domitia began to weep again, 'made in public. Declaring my husband's perversions. Sejanus will be blameless, of course. No one will accuse him of bringing about Drusus's downfall when I'm the one who's come out with it.'

Albucilla stared at Domitia in horror. 'But that's evil. It's a betrayal. A monstrous thing to do to a man for something that causes no harm. With Rome as it is, you'd be sending him to his death.'

'I know,' Domitia sobbed. 'I know!'

Albucilla held her close. 'Oh Domitia, whatever will you do?'

'I thought you realised.' Domitia stared at her with shame. 'I've already done it . . . '

'Oh, the shame,' Livia muttered from the balcony, where she had an uninterrupted view of proceedings. 'The dreadful shame of it. If my husband Augustus were still alive, I do believe this would kill him again.'

Even I, observing the scene from her shoulder, thought her commentary a bit much. Especially given she'd poisoned Augustus with her very own hands.

'Poor Drusus. What a vice to choose. If only he'd gone for something less disgusting.'

'
Domina
, really,' I admonished.

In the square below, the weeping Drusus was dragged in chains towards a waiting cart, which would take him to his imprisonment. He was dressed in a woman's gown – his wife's.

'Still, I must commend the way the fabric clings to his form,' said Livia. 'A very pleasing effect. I can see why he likes it.'

'
Domina
, you are outrageous. He is your great-grandson.'

Livia shrugged and turned to go back into her suite. But there was a twinkle in her eye. The arch words and wicked humour were all for my benefit. She was enjoying playing to an acolyte again. And I was enjoying being closer to determining the intentions behind her schemes. I could not ask what they were, of course, but I suspected now that she would tell me in time, when my curiosity had become unbearable.

Lygdus roused himself at the door, opening it for her. His face still had a haunted look.

'Lygdus, you look like a wraith,' said Livia, not without sympathy.

He tried to bow. Tears were dripping down his cheeks.

'My slave,' said Livia, moved. She cupped her hand under his chin, lifting him up to look at her. His tears wet her fingertips. 'You must remember that Drusus was the one who brought the carefully recorded details of Nero's perversions to light. You should be pleased that further perversions have now claimed Drusus. It's a fitting reward for his treachery, don't you think?'

Lygdus broke down.

'Speak to me, slave. Tell me what you feel.'

'I am unable to feel anything but misery at Nero's unknown fate on Pontia,
domina
,' he sobbed.

'Oh dear. Poor slave. It is such a dreadful thing to be haunted by what we do not know. Go and rest on your pallet. I do not need you to serve me today.'

Crying noisily, Lygdus departed.

Although I continued to feel great pity for him, I was not surprised to note the speed with which Livia's own pity dropped away the second he was gone. Emboldened after being so long sublimated, I dared to comment. 'The "carefully recorded details" that Drusus used against his brother were the ones that Lygdus himself recorded,
domina
, under my direction.'

She waited.

'The very details you forced me to eat, letting me think you'd made no copies.'

She tittered at her past joke.

'
Domina
, are you torturing Lygdus with purpose?'

'"Torture" is such an inadequate word.'

'Please stop it.'

She raised her eyebrow at my returning presumption. I was walking a knife edge. One false step could see me gifted to the
carnifex
.

'I believe,
domina
, that with time and affection Lygdus will become a useful slave again. After all, he was happy to kill once. Perhaps if my
domina
eases her treatment of him, Lygdus will be persuaded to kill a second time? And even a third?'

There was a long silence. Every muscle tensed as I prepared to retrieve the curtain rod upon her command, ready to face her rage. But to my astonishment Livia agreed with me. 'Lygdus's "torture", as you call it, will cease. I can already sense that he will shortly become more useful than he has ever been.'

Intoxicated by my victory, I threw myself at her feet. She purred with pleasure at my grovelling and took care to tread cruelly upon me as she went to sit at her looking glass. Glowing with pride, I risked a final question from the floor. 'Dare I ask,
domina
, whom next you intend employing in your mysterious plans?'

Admiring her unnaturally youthful reflection, Livia was coy. 'I feel it will soon be time for Antonia to play her part,' she replied.

Eighteen months later: the prophet
Stephen is tried by Sanhedrin priests
in Judea for blasphemy against the
Jewish god

Livilla tended her ailing mother with such a depth of love it shocked her. For her entire life her relationship with Antonia had been one of combat. All Antonia's attempts to censure and correct Livilla's wilful nature had been countermanded by sullen resistance during Livilla's younger years, and then outright refusal once she had married. Whatever feeling Livilla held for her mother was, previously, something she was unable to define. She had certainly hated Antonia at times – she knew that – and had kept many wicked secrets from her, all the while half-hoping that her mother would expose them, if only so she could relish Antonia's shock.

But now that Antonia's decline had become so marked, along with the fall of the House of Germanicus, Livilla's true love for her mother won through. Her own life was so happy. Everything for which she had hoped and prayed was imminent. Rome would soon nestle in her hand. She could afford to sweep aside the enmity of so many years and tend to her mother as the great matron prepared to board the barge for the Underworld.

'What led her to this state?' asked Livia, taking the chair next to sleeping Antonia's bed.

Livilla sponged her mother's limbs. 'I believe a madness gripped her, Grandmother.'

'From a river mist?'

'It could well have been.'

Livia clicked her tongue. 'Is that what drove her to write the letters?'

Livilla hesitated. 'You know of those?'

'So sad,' said Livia. 'Your dear mother and my son, the Emperor, were such devoted friends. I think back to when your father was taken from us, Livilla, Tiberius's dear brother. You were only a child – you can't be expected to remember it – but they were united in grief, Antonia and he. They became so close. I harboured thoughts that perhaps they'd even marry.'

'How nice that would have been,' said Livilla, trying to imagine it.

'But now he refuses even to reply to her. So cruel, my son.'

Livilla was wise enough to say nothing. She pressed the sponge to her mother's forehead and Antonia stirred a little.

'I suppose her bewilderment at Tiberius's treatment has led her here?' said Livia. 'That and other, equally perplexing, things, perhaps?'

Livilla stayed silent, sponging her mother's face. Then Antonia awoke and she saw the ageless woman, whom she had always called friend, at her bedside. 'Livia?'

My
domina
kissed her cheek. 'Don't excite yourself. I am here to see how you are. And Livilla has been so kind to me while you slept.'

Love shone in Antonia's eyes, filling their dull grey with life. Livilla had often doubted her feelings for her mother, but Antonia's love, despite the austerity with which it sometimes manifested itself, had never wavered. 'She has been so stoic, so dignified,' Antonia whispered.

Livilla held her mother's hand.

'So admirable,' Antonia added. 'An example for all Rome, my Livilla.'

'Yes,' said Livia, smiling at her granddaughter. 'That's just the word for her. An example.'

Livilla looked away. The memory of Livia's lovemaking with Sejanus was still too raw, as was the narrowness with which she herself had escaped exposure.

'Whereas I have fallen to pieces,' Antonia said. 'I, who was once so revered.'

'Now, now,' said Livia. 'You mustn't distress yourself with all this.'

'But it's true. The calamities that have befallen us. Livilla's poor brother Germanicus, and her fine husband Castor. And then her nephews' disgrace. Yet my daughter remains a bastion throughout all these trials. And all I can do is grow ill.'

Livia could only shake her head. 'You will be well again, when all this unpleasantness has passed us by. You will be renewed, Antonia, I can feel it.'

Antonia's smile was sad. She didn't believe it.

'Now, rest,' said Livia, rising. 'I will visit you again very soon.'

Antonia drifted into the state of being neither asleep nor awake. She only vaguely heard the sounds of Livia's departure, made with heartfelt wishes for Livilla's continued good health. Antonia was just getting ready for Somnus to take her fully when she lurched back to consciousness. Livia had returned and was bending over her. Livilla was not in the room.

'What is it?' Antonia said.

Livia was playful. 'I have a confession to make.'

'A confession?'

'Yes.' She leaned closer. Her mischievous look was like a girl's. 'You see, I know why Livilla has been such a rock of strength for the family throughout these trying times. But you mustn't tell her that I know.'

Feeling weak and ill, and wishing only to sleep in peace, Antonia struggled to indulge her old friend. 'But what reason would there be, Livia?'

'Because she is blessed with a strong, noble man in her life,' Livia whispered. 'Because she is so in love . . .'

Our ears were pressed to the door, straining to determine the words from among the moans.

'But what are they saying about him?' Lygdus asked, wide-eyed. 'I heard his name – didn't you?'

'I think so,' I said.

'Nero. He said Nero's name to her.'

On the other side of the door Tribune Macro penetrated my
domina
with impressive vigour.

'If he'd just stop pounding her like that, maybe the bed would stop squeaking and we could listen properly.'

As if this complaint had embarrassed them, we heard the sounds of the lovers changing position. My
domina
was now astride Macro and the bed ceased moving with quite such vitality. We pressed our ears harder. Nero was indeed being discussed.

'Oh my gods!' Lygdus blurted out as he heard it. He barely stifled a cry. The lovers fell abruptly silent inside my
domina
's suite. We sprang away from the door.

'You fool!' I hissed. 'You've alerted them.'

We threw ourselves to the floor, waiting for the second when my
domina
would fling open the door in rage. But nothing came. We heard the bed begin to squeak again. Lygdus raised his head.

'Don't risk it,' I whispered. 'Please!'

Lygdus was hell-bent. 'They're discussing Nero. Macro has heard something of what his fate will be and he's telling the
domina
of it.'

'Lygdus – no!'

He was upright again with his ear at the door. Too fearful, I remained where I was, watching intently as he listened to a conversation I could not hear.

'She's sobbing,' Lygdus whispered. 'She's crying in there.'

'It's the way he penetrates her,' I said. 'It makes her do that. I think she's grateful.'

'She's distraught. She's begging him to intervene.'

'It's their lovemaking again.'

Lygdus went white. 'She's pleading for Nero's life.'

I sat upright. 'Lygdus, come away right now.'

He shook his head, listening. 'No. No!' he gasped, clamping his hands to his mouth.

'Stop it – they'll hear you now for sure!'

He lurched from the door, flapping uselessly around the room.

'Oh gods,' I muttered, 'you'll bring the
carnifex
upon us.'

'He's been condemned!'

'Lygdus –'

'Sejanus has ordered it –
Sejanus
has ordered it. Not the Emperor himself, but his Prefect!'

I thought of Livia's hints about her scheme involving Martina and 'upping the dose'. 'Calm down, I'm begging you.'

Lydgus sank to the floor, gripping me by the hands. 'He's to be killed in exile. It's not done yet but it's imminent. Imminent, Iphicles!'

Somewhere inside me a little voice urged caution. 'Listen,' I said. 'There's something not quite right about this.'

He almost laughed. 'There's nothing quite right! Nero's going to be executed – and not on Tiberius's orders but Sejanus's. The Prefect's acting like he's Emperor! What can possibly be right?'

'Lygdus, please just listen to me. That's not what I mean –'

But he silenced me with a look so sincere my heart broke. 'Thank you, Iphicles. For all you have done for me in the time we have known each other.' He stood up again. 'Despite our fights you have been a true mentor to me. A father, as you say. You helped me gain confidence and courage and strength.'

I was thrown. Why was he saying this? 'Our adventures together have only just begun, Lygdus,' I told him. 'We will live on our wits as a team for years more to come – we'll outlive the whole of Rome.'

Lygdus shook his head, now smiling at me. But his eyes were bright with tears. 'Our time together is done, Father.' He stooped to kiss my head. 'Goodbye.'

'Wait!'

But he was running down the hall.

Suddenly the truth of this whole, strange scene was revealed to me. I saw what it was that had felt so wrong. I guessed the workings of my
domina
's plan. 'Wait, Lygdus!' I cried as I struggled to get to my feet. 'Wait, Lygdus! Wait!'

But he was gone from me.

Antonia lay tormented for many hours by the 'confession'. She had felt bewildered by its unlikelihood at first, but when Livia had insisted, Antonia had seen that it was very much the truth. Her daughter Livilla had taken the Prefect Sejanus as her lover. This was, Livia believed, a happy little secret that had been kept from Antonia's knowledge only out of embarrassment. The Praetorian Prefect was not her social equal, of course, so she wanted it hushed.

But when Livia had gone, Antonia had been left to deplore her friend for being so blind to the implications. This was not some girlish indiscretion on Livilla's part. The appalling ramifications of the affair took the breath from Antonia's chest.

Livia had made Antonia a gift of the hitherto unseen element that united her family's tragedies. A macabre pattern emerged. It was there, she now realised, in her son Germanicus's death. It was there, too, in her son-in-law Castor's demise. There it was again in Agrippina's decline, with the fall of her friends having fanned the flames of her madness. And there it was, too, in Nero's disgrace, followed so soon after by Drusus. Now that she had learned that poor, deluded Livilla actually believed herself loved, the common element to all these sorrows was revealed as starkly as the sun. Sejanus stood to profit from her family's destruction. Sejanus, Antonia now knew, had ensured that not one of the letters she had written to Tiberius was received.

Cold rage empowered Antonia. She sensed the shadow of her former self flitting across the walls, taunting her for the years of ignorance. She had once been called Rome's most revered matron. What matron would let this ever come to pass?

Antonia forced herself upright. She placed her feet on the floor. Her head span with the effort, but she determinedly stood, catching her breath for a moment. She took her first steps in many weeks as she went to her clothes chest, flinging it open to pluck out the first warm garment she saw.

She fell still as she heard Livilla moving around in the room next to hers. She waited. Livilla returned to her own bed and Antonia resumed dressing in careful silence.

She knew what must be done – and done without her daughter knowing of it. She needed an ally she could trust, someone young and resourceful, blessed with physical strength.

As Antonia stole from her room into the darkened house beyond, she realised that she knew just such a person.

Burrus pressed his lips to Nilla's ear. 'Wake. Please wake!'

Nilla stirred but tried to cling to the comforts of Somnus.

'My love, please wake,' Burrus whispered, insistent. 'It is important.'

She felt the dreams slipping from her fingers, leaving grief in their wake. The loss of Acte lifted her to consciousness again, kissing her just as Burrus kissed her cheek. It never left her, the pain, but sometimes in her dreams she could escape it.

'Leave me be, Burrus . . .'

'No, my love. You must come with me.'

'Leave me. Let me sleep.'

Burrus lifted her in his arms. 'Ssh,' he whispered. 'Don't make a sound. Red-hair and his whore must not know of this.'

'Know of what?'

He kissed her into silence, taking her from the room and down the stairs. A draught of wind from the street swept her hair.

'The door is open?'

'Yes, love.'

'Who is here?'

Antonia stepped forward from the shadows, embracing Nilla tightly.

'Grandmother?'

'I shall not stay here long,' said Antonia. 'I'm going on a journey that will save the lives of your mother and your brothers, if I succeed.'

Tears filled Nilla's eyes. 'Oh Grandmother, yes!'

Antonia embraced her again.

'Let me help you,' Nilla begged. 'What can I do?'

'Will you give me something that is precious to you?'

'Anything,' Nilla said. 'What do I have left to give?'

Antonia looked to the strong, young man who had cradled her granddaughter so tenderly down the stairs. 'Your loyal slave,' she said. 'Give me Burrus.'

With Macro gone, Livia found me quietly crying in the corridor.

'Oh, Iphicles.'

'I am so sorry,
domina
,' I snivelled, trying to stand. But my legs failed me and I couldn't rise.

'Look at you.'

'Please,
domina
. Just leave me here,' I wept.

But she would not. Livia knelt on the floor where I lay. 'Here, now.' She lifted my head. 'Poor slave.' Tenderly, she placed me in her lap and began to stroke my hair as a mother might.

After a while I asked, 'Was it a lie that Sejanus ordered Nero to be killed?'

'Of course,' said Livia. 'Nero has not been condemned.'

'The lie was told for Lygdus to hear?'

'And no one else.'

'Why,
domina
? Why do that?'

'Oh, Iphicles. And here I thought you'd gathered your wits once more.'

I began to cry again. Of course I knew why. 'To prompt him into action . . . That's what it was for.'

'Much better,' she said. 'Now your wits have returned.'

'Oh, my poor son,' I sobbed. I knew what Lygdus's fate would be.

'Ssh,' she murmured softly. 'The sacrifice of a child is nothing when one possesses a great destiny. I, too, will know this pain, Iphicles.'