A husky voice answered her from the door. “I’m here, my love. And here, by your side, IH stay.”
With a cry of joy, Acte flew into Sergio’s waiting arms.
Seventeen
Acte learned to close her mind to the seething madness of Rome, whipped as it was by Octavia’s death and the bloody purge which followed of all those loyal to Claudius’s family. From her hilltop villa, Acte ignored the rumblings, gave no thought to the fact that Poppaea would soon give birth to Nero’s child.
Instead, she opened her home and her heart to the Christians. Paulus and his followers were a kindly, devout group, not the fanatics she had been told about. And Acte found herself increasingly influenced by their new ideas.
Paulus had come to Rome to stand trial before the emperor on some trumped-up charges, if Nero ever got around to hearing his case. Though under house arrest, Paulus had freedom to move among the people, preaching his new religion. Another disciple, Peter, also came later to help spread the word. Since the Christians seemed a meeker group under Paulus’s leadership, and Rome was a city open to all religions, Nero saw no reason to upset the state of things. Indeed, some doubted that Nero even remembered what Paulus was there for.
The emperor had become so paranoid that no one near him felt his own head secure on his shoulders. Though few outside the palace were much shaken by Nero’s order that Dorph, his faithful and loving slave-secretary, be killed for suspected spying, everyone was shocked when Nero had a list drawn up of senators and patricians whose deaths by suicide were demanded and whose fortunes and estates were confiscated.
Seneca, who had begged Nero for years to allow him to retire—even offering his vast fortune as a gift to the Empire—sensed his own time coming. When the emperor refused his request, he could only shake his head at the senseless slaughter and mutter, “Fortune is a fickle goddess.”
But even at a time of death and destruction came new life. At the villa in Antium where Agrippina had given birth to Nero twenty-five years before, Poppaea lay on her bed struggling to give Nero his heir.
Nero’s face beamed with joy when he took his daughter from the midwife’s arms.
“She will be called Claudia Augusta, and two golden images of Fortuna shall be placed on the throne of Jupiter Capitolinus in honor of daughter and mother.”
With his daughter in his arms, Nero rushed about the villa in a frenzy of joy, shouting, “Halotus, make ready! Send a runner to Rome. All members of the Senate are to be present for a feast of celebration. This is a great day for Rome and all the Empire.” Then looking down into Claudia Augusta’s tiny face he said more softly, “But most of all, it’s a great day for me.”
A servant came to take the newborn from its father to be breast-fed. Nero gave the infant to her, then eagerly followed to watch.
But as the baby was laid beside its mother, Poppaea protested, “No! I won’t ruin my breasts by being used like a milch cow. Go and find a wet nurse for her.” The woman picked up the child.
Nero’s face fell. This had been his own mother’s reasoning. How could Poppaea deny his child her milk? Fury boiled within him.
Taking the baby from the nurse, Nero once again placed her at Poppaea’s breast.
“You will do your mother’s duty!” He turned to the servant and said, “We’ll have no need of a wet nurse. The empress will suckle her own.”
While Nero celebrated his daughter’s birth with a banquet of the rarest delicacies, Acte and Lucius sat at their table with their Christian friends eating unleavened bread and drinking wine in celebration of their baptism into a new faith.
Paulus uttered prayers over the meal and then turned his attention to young Lucius. He looked at the boy’s bronze curls, his darkly serious eyes, his straight clean limbs. He would be a fine man someday. His mother had taught him well.
“My son, do you understand that you’ve experienced a rebirth today more important than the day you first gazed upon the world?”
Lucius looked at Paulus with great awe, and nodded.
“I have a friend whom you’ll meet soon. He’s a physician of note and one of the faithful. His name is Luke. I’ll call you by that name from now on. It’s fitting that on the occasion of your rebirth you should have a new name as well.”
Lucius looked from Paulus to his mother. She smiled and nodded.
“This is a great honor which Paulus bestows on you, son. I’ll also call you Luke. You must work hard to live up to this name. Someday you’ll be great, like your father.”
Realizing what she’d said, Acte blushed and hurriedly excused herself from the table before Luke could ask questions which might prove embarrassing. He still didn’t know his father’s identity, though he often asked.
Later, when they were alone, Paulus brought the subject up. “What about the boy’s father?”
Acte couldn’t look at Paulus as she answered. “You know more about me than I know about myself. Have you any doubts as to who Luke’s father is?”
Paulus shook his head, then said matter-of-factly, “The Emperor Nero.”
“The first man I loved.”
“Does he know about his son?”
“No,” Acte answered quietly.
“I thought not. Why haven’t you told him? Isn’t it dangerous for you to hide such a secret from one so powerful?”
“Perhaps. But it would be more dangerous for my son if I told Nero and Poppaea found out. She’s given Nero a legitimate heir now, but I have Nero’s son and firstborn. Poppaea wouldn’t let the sun go down on Rome without having my Luke killed. I know her well. She’s a monster beyond belief.”
“You’ve had a lot to handle for one so young, Acte. For a woman, you amaze me.”
Acte laughed in spite of herself. “Ah, Paulus, you’re a wise man in so many ways. But your idea of women as weak is wrong, I’m afraid. More power can be wielded with the flutter of a woman’s eye than by all the decrees of all the Caesars.” She paused to reflect, then continued. “Nero himself has been only a tool of women since he was born. First it was his mother. Even now I doubt that a night goes by that she doesn’t order her son about in his dreams. Octavia, though she lost her life, lived by her design, not his. If she hadn’t hated him so much, his life might’ve been better. Would you believe she gave me to Nero rather than go to his bed herself?”
The face of Paulus darkened. “One doesn’t give a human being to another. That’s slavery!”
“But, Paulus, I was her slave.” Then, casting her eyes down once more, “I was Nero’s lover before then. But that’s all in the past now. The guiding force in Nero’s life at this moment is Poppaea. If God also looks after the heathen, perhaps He will make Nero’s daughter a strong woman—strong enough to overcome her mother’s evil before it destroys her father.”
Paulus stared at Acte, not quite believing that women could hold such influence over men.
“But you, Acte, what direction have you given the emperor?”
“I’ve always tried to be there when he needed me—to soothe his hurts, to build his confidence that he could be a good leader. Poor man! He wanted to be a poet and actor. He’s quite good at both, you know. But Agrippina wouldn’t hear of it. There was only one role for Nero to play—that of emperor. And play that role is exactly what he’s done.”
“But what about Luke? Will you ever tell him?”
Acte stood up, signaling an end to their conversation. “I’ll tell Luke about his father someday. I’ll say that his father was also called Lucius and was the greatest poet in all the Empire. But he’ll never know his father was called Caesar!”
Keeping her a moment longer, Paulus asked, “And do you always plan to keep the boy a secret from the emperor?”
She hesitated. “Twice I’ve been on the verge of telling Nero, but both times I held my tongue even though it pained my heart. A mother’s pride, you know. But it would be worse to lose my son. No. I see no circumstances under which I�
�d let Nero know. It’s too late for that. And now, goodnight, Paulus.”
When Acte entered her bedchamber, she found Sergio waiting for her. Her life had taken on a settled air since his return and her new understanding of Christianity. She felt a faith in herself and her ability to cope with life that she’d never had before.
As she lit the lamp, Sergio smiled down at her. “What do you think of Paulus?”
She thought for a moment before answering. “He’s kind and wise.” Then, touching Sergio’s cheeks, she said after a while, “But I think the time has come.”
He looked at her questioningly. “The time?”
Acte drew Sergio close and kissed the hollow in his neck. “Yes, my dearest, the time to leave. I see the way ahead clearly. You and I will take my son and go to Greece. How soon can it be arranged?”
Sergio stood gazing at her, unable to answer in his happy astonishment.
“Well, when? How long do I have to pack?” she asked.
He laughed aloud and hugged her. “You’re right. The circumstances are perfect. Nero is too engrossed in his new heir to give a thought to your whereabouts. Give me a week to book our passage and wind up my affairs in Rome. Then we’ll be free at last. We have Paulus to marry us in a true Christian ceremony before we depart.”
They embraced and kissed in their happiness, and then Sergio left Acte to her happy dreams.
On the very eve of Sergio’s and Acte’s wedding, the omens once again began to warn of coming disaster. An earthquake partially destroyed Pompeii and Herculaneum barely a month after Claudia Augusta was born. But no one took it as a sign, and the Empire was still celebrating the birth in a never-ending procession of games, banquets and theatrics. Nero only sighed with relief that most of the destruction was to the south and his villas at Baiae and Antium had suffered little damage.
Almost simultaneously, lightning struck an amphitheater in Rome, setting it on fire and melting a metal statue of the emperor into a shapeless mass. Nero’s armies in Armenia suffered great reverses. But these things happen from time to time. Such is life! The celebrating continued.
But on a spring night when all was still except for the song of the night birds, Nero was awakened from a sound sleep by one of Poppaea’s handmaidens.
“Caesar, the child is ill! The empress wishes your presence at once.”
Nero smiled at the overwrought woman. “Be calm. Children will have these restless nights. It’s normal.”
But even as he uttered the words, cold hands closed around his heart. Out of the darkness he thought he heard Agrippina’s voice say, “You took my life. Now I’ll have hers!” It was the voice that had haunted his dreams for many months, and now it sent him into a near frenzy. He rushed to the nursery where Poppaea had gone to breast-feed their daughter.
Nero took Poppaea’s tears to be concern for the baby. Truthfully, they were for herself. Poppaea knew that if the child died, Nero would want another heir from her or get rid of her. She thought of the long months of misery she had already endured.
“Nero, summon the physicians! Claudia burns with fever!”
Stunned for a moment, Nero couldn’t move. His world seemed crashing in around him. The next few hours were a blur of motions. Only his daughter’s crying as the physicians bled her gave him hope. As long as he could hear her from the next room, he knew that he hadn’t lost her.
Then he heard nothing. Nero crept to the door in time to see the head physician cover the small pale body.
All Rome received the news with sorrow, and a pall hung over the city for many days. It was whispered that Nero had locked himself away in the child’s empty room and would neither speak nor eat. Poppaea had left for a rest in the country.
The emperor shared his grief with no one.
Acte carefully bathed and scented her body before donning her white bridal gown. It was the simplest of stolae, completely devoid of any sort of ornamentation. Her dark hair, entwined with orange blossoms, fell about her demurely covered shoulders. Within a few hours she would be Sergio’s wife.
She sat on her couch to wait for his knock. When the door burst open without warning, she jumped in surprise. Before her stood not Sergio, but a royal guard.
“You will accompany me to the palace at once,” he commanded.
“But I’m about to be wed,” she protested. “I can’t —”
His tone was harsh. “Come! The litter waits.”
Acte had no idea what the summons meant. She knew of the baby’s death and had heard rumors of Nero’s deep sorrow. But what did that have to do with her?
Upon arriving at the palace, Acte was escorted immediately to the nursery. She looked at the guard for instructions.
He pointed to the door. “Go to the emperor. Reason with him. These are your orders from the Senate.”
Nero seemed totally unaware of Acte’s presence as she entered the darkly draped room. He sat beside the empty cradle with its golden canopy and satin sheets still stained with Claudia’s blood.
She moved noiselessly across the room to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He lurched away and screamed.
“No, Mater, no! Don’t take her! She’s the only child I have. For the love of the gods, let me keep her! I’ll do anything—anything!”
Acte was so shocked by his outburst that it took her a few moments to collect herself to speak. “Nero, it’s Acte. Calm down. Look at me.”
Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his face away from the empty cradle and looked at her. The madness was there in his eyes.
“Then you aren’t a ghost? You haven’t come to take Claudia from me?”
“No, Nero. I’ve come to see you—to tell you how sorry I am.” Acte’s words came in a nervous whisper. What would he do?
Suddenly Nero clutched her desperately to him, his body shaking with silent, dry sobs. His tears had been suppressed so long by his determination not to show weakness that they wouldn’t come.
Slowly, Acte led him out of the nursery to his room. She left him there and quickly ordered a slave to remove all reminders of the dead child.
Upon her return, Acte found Nero lying naked on his bed. His eyes were glazed, and he smiled.
“Come to me, Acte, my love,” he said in a strange and faraway voice. “Octavia won’t return from the Temple of Vesta for two days. We’ll make the most of our time together. Perhaps I should leave her there and take you as my bride.” His next thrust of words jolted her. “Why, look at you! You’re already dressed for our wedding.”
When Acte didn’t move, Nero sprang from the bed and tore the gown from her body. Though she fought and clawed to get away from him, he overpowered her and threw her to the floor. Then he pinned her beneath him, and forced her cruelly. As she sobbed her protests, the door abruptly flew open and an enraged Sergio, short sword in hand, charged in. He pulled Nero up and raised his sword to strike a deathblow. Acte leaped to her feet.
“No, Sergio, no! He isn’t in his right mind. I won’t lose you! Let him be, only take me home.”
Reluctantly Sergio dropped his arm and shoved Nero aside. He wrapped Acte in a cloak.
Nero suddenly began laughing hysterically. “Acte! What a surprise! Whatever are you doing here? Poppaea will be wild with rage!” Then his eyes and his voice changed as he looked at Sergio and the sword in his hand. He screamed, “Guards! Guards! An assassin! Arrest him at once!”
Before either of them could move, Acte and Sergio found themselves surrounded by a dozen Praetorians.
Nero smiled blandly. “Not the woman. I’ll take care of her. But take this great wild man to the prison. I’ll have to think about his punishment. I don’t want him killed outright, but slowly.”
Acte broke into tears again. Sergio was bound and dragged out of the room. Nero walked to where she stood, clutching Sergio’s cloak to her, and stroked her cheek. “Don’t cry, my love. Poppaea is away. We’ll have time enough together at last.”
For th
e next few days, Sergio remained chained to the damp wall of his cell awaiting word of his fate. Acte shared almost as cruel a fate at Nero’s hands.
At times Nero would look up suddenly as if he heard something and say, “Claudia, Claudia? Is that my daughter crying? Go and give her your breast, Poppaea. She must be hungry.”
And other times he would crouch in a fetal position and remain suckling the exhausted Acte for hours as if he were her baby. Her alarm for herself and especially Sergio mounted with each passing hour. Finally, she decided on a course of action. It was her only hope, if she had any at all.
With all the command she could muster, she said, “Nero, your daughter is dead! You’ll never see her or hold her again. Your wife, Poppaea, will be returning soon. She mustn’t find you with me. Our love is over, and I’ll die rather than stay your prisoner for another hour. My heart belongs to another. But I have a gift for you.” His mad eyes lit at the mention of a gift. “But you must give me something in return.”
He became excited now—like a child in anticipation of receiving a new toy. “What do you want—pearls, silks, gold—what must I give you?”
Her voice remained steady and she looked directly into his eyes. “I want no material possessions. Only return to me the man you sent to prison. He’s not an assassin.”
Nero looked at her oddly. “What man?”
“I’m through playing games, Nero. If you want my gift, you’ll have Sergio Maximus brought here immediately.”
He smiled. “Of course, my dear. Now for my surprise.”
“First, I must see Sergio.”
Nero called a guard and told him to bring the prisoner to tha palace. Within a few minutes a dirty and thinner Sergio stood in the room with them. Though she longed to, Acte dared not go to him. It hurt her to see his chafed wrists and ankles where the irons had eaten into his flesh.
Nero walked around Sergio. “There he is, Acte, just as you asked. Now for my surprise.”
“Nero,” Acte began, but had to compose herself first in order to keep her voice from trembling. “Nero, you have another child. You have a son. I lied to you before. The boy you saw that time wasn’t Nike’s, but mine.”
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