The Nero Prediction

by Humphry Knipe

  Five days later we left for Baiae, the resort on the Bay of Naples. With us went Tigellinus, recently appointed Prefect of Police, Seneca the philosopher, Burrus the Praetorian Prefect, beautiful Poppaea and her indulgent husband Otho. Euodus accompanied Tigellinus, so that I could continue to make my nightly report. I was certain that there was no irony in Nero's voice when he told me that he was delighted Agrippina had agreed to travel with him so that they could ventilate the bad air between them, as he put it.

  Nero frowned at me when the town came into sight. "Epaphroditus, you look like you've just found a slug in your lettuce. Are you all right?"

  How I wished I wasn't. If I'd only come down with some totally disabling disease, perhaps this cup of poison would pass me by. It didn't. My health remained stubbornly good. I even caught myself enjoying the fresh air, the splendid sweep of villas that rimmed the sea, the wonderful gardens of Nero's seaside palace with its glassy waterfalls and pools populated with longhaired slave girls gliding between the water lilies like Nereids.

  With official business cut to a minimum, I had too much time to entertain the ugliest thoughts in the most beautiful setting. Fate's Anointed wasn't feeling that fortunate. What was Tigellinus up to? How I hated the way he just sat there smugly in the center of his web. If he was working on a plan to save Nero, why didn't he share it with me? He appeared to be so perfectly at ease, to be enjoying himself so enormously as he danced attendance on Agrippina, charming her with his brilliant grin, getting her to smile widely enough to reveal her double canine tooth on the left side. A dark thought struck: had Tigellinus decided that Nero's obsession with musical war proved he was unbalanced like his uncle Caligula and that it doomed him to die young? If so, who was better placed to kill Nero than someone he trusted with his life, me?

  The day of the Moon of the Year, the fatal day, began with a spectacular dawn, red with blood it seemed to me. Ironically it was the Liberalia, the Roman's most frivolous holiday. The court celebrated the festival at Otho's villa, a few miles east of Baiae near Lake Lucrinus. Nothing was too expensive for Otho, nor too ostentatious for his wife. Preparations must have begun months in advance because flowering bushes and many of the trees had been clipped into drinking cups, bunches of grapes and thymuses: the attributes of Bacchus. Everywhere guests were entertained by bucolic comedies that had them in fits of laughter. There were also erotic vignettes, most of them based on classical themes. For a while I stared vacantly at a black dwarf, endowed with a penis that would make Priapus proud, who was servicing an acrobatic blonde nymph, hardly more than a child. She screeched with a sound that fell somewhere between pain and great pleasure. The energy of the little man was truly prodigious as he put the nymph through her paces sending color flying to the cheeks of the ladies, some of them quite tipsy, who tittered from a discreet distance away. Although the scene, both comic and prurient, helped even Euodus shrug off his air of gloomy preoccupation, it did nothing for me.

  The Sun had been up for four hours and the day already too long, when Agrippina sent for me. Her face was heavily painted with the colors of youth. But there was age and pain and fearsome will in her eyes. Next to her stood a frightful man with indelible mementos of the arena carved onto his body.

  "This is Mnester," she said. "After my departure tonight he will give you the dagger. The blade has been coated with poison. Death will come quickly and mercifully even if all you manage to do is puncture the skin. Mnester will remain with you to make certain that nothing unforeseen happens. Think only of your reward. Fate will guide your actions. We shall not talk again before it is all over. Farewell."

  The banquet began at noon. The dining couches were placed along the shore of an island in the middle of a pond. The food was placed on gaily decorated miniature boats, one to each couch, which were floated across the pond to the diners. Guiding each boat was an underwater string that ferried it back and forth. Scantily dressed child slaves, selected for their beauty, attentiveness and coquetry, served the guests.

  Nero reclined with Agrippina on one side of him and Poppaea on the other. From a distance it was difficult to tell who was the mistress and who the mother: both women showered him with affection. Of the two Agrippina was the most demonstrative. She fed her son little tidbits as if he were still a child, kept touching him with hands that lingered just a little too long, whispered into his ear and kissed his cheek so often that a little frown began to appear on Poppaea's unfurrowed brow.

  But if she was puzzled by Agrippina's behavior, I was dumbfounded. A mother was about to murder her son and here she was behaving as if she was trying to seduce him! A stomach cramp steered me towards a red oleander bush that had been trimmed into the shape of a phallus.

  Someone behind me laughed as I retched. "Not feeling too well?" It was Euodus. Beyond him, perhaps twenty yards away, stood my grim shadow, Mnester.

  "Have you seen her?" I gasped, "she's carrying on as if she's trying to get him into her bed!"

  The freedman’s green eyes twinkled merrily. "What do you expect her to do, carry on as if she's about to have him murdered?"

  "I admire Nero, I love him. You'll never get me to kill him. I'm going to him now, to tell him everything."

  Euodus was no longer smiling. "Try that and I'll kill you myself."

  I watched him go, walking between trees hung with grotesque masks which were meant to ward off evil spirits. They hadn't succeeded because Tigellinus was everywhere, pressing the flesh. He had to be Agrippina's creature, I was sure of that now, perhaps he always had been, egging Nero on to his doom. Convinced by experience that it was easier to control a husband than a son, Agrippina probably had already secretly married Rubellius Plautus, great-grandson of Tiberius as rumor was already whispering. If she had then she would announce the marriage immediately after Nero's murder.

  As the Sun set the Moon, a yellow pig's-bladder filled with bile, rose from behind Vesuvius, the first full Moon of the ancient religious year, always pregnant with destiny, never more so than now. Above the Moon hung Jupiter, a brilliant drop of brave light. Saturn's yellow rheumy eye blinked malevolently from high up in the western sky while Mars lay himself down to rest on the bloody couch of the horizon. I looked out over the mirror-calm sea. The night was so clear you could see the lights of Capri more than ten miles across the water. The sense of space suggested flight. But Mnester stood closer now that it was growing dark.

  Hours passed. The huge Moon continued her triumphant march to the zenith until her light beat down on me as hot as the Sun. Anxiety drove me in circles around the garden like a bird with a broken wing. Where I went Agrippina's man followed, a Moon shadow. My newfound faith in Cicero and the skeptics drained from me like a wounded gladiator’s blood. For the first time in nearly three years I opened my heart to the stars and heaven opened its heart to me. It brought me no comfort. The discordant planets wailed more shrilly than the cicadas. I was convinced that my wandering wasn’t random, convinced that a shadow destiny was guiding me, the destiny predicted by my lost stars. Every pace was a step on a pre-determined path that meandered, now towards the villa and now towards the sea, but always led me unerringly towards my goal: Nero's bedside.

  The moonlight solidified. I lost my sense of independent motion. I was a fly entombed in liquid amber. Only when the amber flowed did I move, as imperceptibly but as certainly as the Moon.

  A familiar, testy voice woke me from my ghastly reverie. "Where have you been? We've been looking for you everywhere. He needs you."

  It was Graptus the chamberlain. My heart leapt at his words. They could kill me if they wanted. Nero needed me. He needed my confession. I followed Graptus past the guests who were watching a pantomime show. Tigellinus, Otho and Poppaea were still there, sitting together, but Agrippina and Nero weren't.

  Mother and son reclined together on a couch in a room that looked out over the moonlit bay. At first I didn't recognize them in the dim lamplight. They were holding hands and whispering like lovers.

>   They drew apart when Graptus cleared his throat. "The notary Epaphroditus, Caesar."

  A slight frown appeared on Agrippina's forehead. She hadn't expected to see me, not yet.

  Nero greeted me with a familiar gesture: opening his right hand and letting it fall closed again. "Epaphroditus is here to take notes. You see, I've arranged a little surprise for you mother. Graptus, show him in."

  Balbillus entered, the astrologer Agrippina had banished to Egypt so that she could walk alone over the pristine sands of the future. His bow was deep but his eyes glowed with the somber fire of revenge. "Greetings Augusta."

  Agrippina's voice was inflected with fury. "My son, what is the meaning of this?"

  Nero's reply sounded as innocent as a dove's coo. "He's here to read us our stars mother, what else? Is anything wrong?"

  "I am surprised that Balbillus's return was kept from me, that he didn't pay me the courtesy of a call."

  "But mother, that would have spoilt my little surprise!"

  The control returned to Agrippina's voice, the temper of the coiled spring. "I see."

  Nero nodded at Balbillus who gazed at the charts he'd brought with him. His face took on the awful serenity of someone who is in communication with infinity.

  "The transits of the Moon of the Year bode well for the Augusta. The transit full Moon is in exact conjunction with the Augusta's Venus which predicts that she is about to have a successful courtship."

  Nero's eyes glowed in the flickering torchlight. "How wonderful for you mother! A romance! Who is it? Do tell. Tongue's are wagging about Rubellius Plautus you know. Yes, it could be him. He's not very bright but he is the great-grandson of Tiberius. I shouldn't be surprised if he's working himself up into a frenzy of anticipation about you right at this moment, drunk with love and moonlight. Or is it something else he's after?"

  For the first time since I'd been delivered to her I saw Agrippina on the defensive. "Don't be silly," she said through a yawn. "My son, you are going to have to excuse me soon. It is past midnight and I'm a long way from home."

  "Oh mother, you can't go, not until you've heard what Balbillus has to say about me. Or doesn't that interest you any more?"

  A little sigh of resignation. "Of course it does."

  Nero turned to the astrologer. "Well Balbillus, we're hanging on your every word."

  Balbillus smoothed paper in front of him. "Caesar, the vocation of an astrologer is not an easy one, particularly the astrologer of a prince. Often he is reluctant to say even what he knows about the future, let alone what he suspects. When the prince's stars indicate prosperity and victory, it's a pleasure for the astrologer to give him the good news since honors and presents are showered upon him as if he himself were responsible for the good fortune. But how different his situation when the stars predict danger and disaster! It's not one of the strengths of human nature to be able to distinguish the good messenger from the evil message he brings."

  Nero frowned. "Balbillus, are you trying to tell me something? Mother is exhausted and she still has to say her good-byes. Do get on with it."

  "Very well, Caesar. You are being stalked by a secret enemy."

  Nero looked shocked. "An enemy? Why should anyone be my enemy? I haven't threatened anyone. I haven't attached anyone's property. I even hate signing the death warrants of convicted murderers. Why would anyone want to harm me?"

  "The enemy is indicated by transit Mercury, the messenger, flying swiftly through Pisces. Tonight he's in an unlucky square with your Mercury which is in your House of Enemies. Beware of one who is ruled by Mercury, Caesar."

  "Mercury? But thousands of people are ruled by Mercury!" A terrible thought seemed to strike him. He looked at Agrippina. "You're ruled by Mercury, aren't you mother? Balbillus, you're not suggesting that my own mother is plotting my downfall?"

  "Yes!" a voice screamed inside me, "yes she is!" But the loudest sound I made was the scratching of my pen.

  Agrippina's question cut the silence. "Is that what you are suggesting, Balbillus?"

  "As the Augusta knows, the astrologer looks at the stars and interprets them according to the rules of his science. He can do no more and must do no less."

  Nero's lips trembled. He whispered as if his assassin was already at the door. "When, Balbillus? Can you see when it will happen?"

  "Yes, Caesar. The opposition of the Sun and the Moon will occur at forty minutes after midnight. This, the moment when the Moon is perfectly full, is the first instant of the ancient New Year. Thereafter, although imperceptibly at first, the Moon begins to wane. As she wanes she becomes vindictive.”

  “Why would she do that?” Nero asked plaintively.

  “She’s a woman, Caesar. That’s what happens to women when their bloom fades.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Go on.”

  “Unfortunately your natal Saturn, the planet that rules your chart, stands in her way. Because she has become vindictive she will attack him. This is a time of great peril for you, when the Moon will threaten you with misfortune and send enemies against you."

  Nero winced. "I must remember to double the guard."

  "You must certainly exercise every precaution Caesar, because your very life is in danger."

  Nero's mouth fell open. "What?"

  There was a superficial calm to Balbillus's voice but the undertone of urgency was unmistakable. "On her way towards your Saturn the vindictive Moon will move into a dangerous square with your Mars who will fuel her malicious rage. Beware or your death will be violent and it will be soon."

  "How soon?" Nero croaked.

  "Tonight, exactly four hours before dawn."

  "Will the danger pass?"

  "Yes Caesar, the danger is as transitory as the angles made by the hurrying Moon."

  "When will I be safe?"

  "Almost exactly one hour later. By then the Moon will have overtaken your Saturn. Once she begins to move past and then away from him the moment of danger will have passed."

  Nero sprang to his feet. "Then there's no time to waste. I must sacrifice to divine Julius to spare me his fate." He turned to Agrippina. The note of appeal in his voice was almost child-like. "Mother, will you pray for me?"

  Agrippina rose too. "Yes, son, I shall pray to Julius. I shall pray to Augustus my great-grandfather. And I shall pray for you."

  It was midnight and the Moon was directly overhead when Agrippina said her farewells to Otho and Poppaea. Nero accompanied her to the wharf where Anicetus, an ex-slave who had risen to the position of prefect of the fleet, stood at attention next to a galley decorated with garlands and banners.

  "Greetings Anicetus," said Agrippina, "and thank you for the guard-of-honor, but this is not my boat."

  The Greek's teeth looked huge and startlingly white in the bright moonlight. "A little accident, Augusta. Someone who looked too deeply into Bacchus's wine sack steered his boat into yours. This one here is brand new and the fastest in the fleet. We'll have you home in no time."

  Agrippina looked for her boat. "Where is mine?"

  Nero put a hand on her shoulder. "It's in for repairs, mother. Nothing major. It'll be ready by morning. Besides, you'll enjoy a nostalgic little trip on a military craft. Remember how much you enjoyed going everywhere on naval warships when you were a little girl?"

  Agrippina looked up at the Moon. As she did so a trumpet sounded seven times for the seven planets, a choir of young boys, quite close but out of sight, began to sing a hymn. It was the moment of opposition, the moment when a shiver passes through the flux, unsettling everything, disturbing ghosts, creating werewolves, a moment that inspires the insane.

  There were tears in Nero's eyes. As he kissed Agrippina farewell they ran down his cheeks. She threw her arms around him, hugged him tightly, repeatedly kissing his wet face.

  She walked up the gangplank. The boat cast off. The oars broke the mirror of the water. Agrippina put the tips of her fingers to her lips and then held out both hands to Nero. It was the same ges
ture she'd used when she watched the guards take him away to be hailed emperor.

  She'd changed her mind! She didn't want me to kill Nero after all! I heard a step behind me, turned.

  Mnester took something out of his cloak, held it out to me. A dagger. "Here it is. In one hour and twenty minutes, when I give you the order, use it."

  It was an eerie sight: my right hand reaching out for the weapon. I pointed at Agrippina with my left. "But don't you see? She's changed her mind."

  "She hasn't. Her arms are raised, fingers extended. That's the signal."

  "Epaphroditus!" Nero called to me.

  I hid the dagger in my sleeve. "Yes dominus?"

  "Suddenly I'm quite tired. Take my apologies to Otho and Poppaea, tell them I'm going to make an early night of it. No rest for you, though. I want you to go straight to work transcribing Balbillus's reading and I want to see it within the hour. Bring it yourself and make sure you wake me. Spiculus will admit no one but you."

  A chill, sharp as a needle, shot up my spine.

  Matricide

  March 18, 59 A.D.

  A fly entombed in liquid amber, only the amber moved. There was no sensation of motion as I climbed the stairs to the second floor balcony where Nero was sleeping under the stars. The stairs were broad and white and awash with moonlight. Behind me was Mnester who'd just been told that nine minutes of the ninth hour had passed. Ahead was Spiculus with his Germans. He let me pass with a quick nod. I gripped the transcription of the Balbillus reading tightly in my right hand. Inside the scroll was the poisoned dagger, wrapped in paper like Claudius’s poison four years ago.

  The huge balcony was paved with white marble. At its center was a dark rectangle, Nero's bed. Beyond it was the bay and above the bay was the Moon, perfectly round, but already irritated by the wasting worm. The slow wave of amber in which I was embedded flowed smoothly over the marble towards Nero's bed. I looked down at him. His face was beautiful, child-like, carved in marble, already dead and deified. I unrolled my transcription of Balbillus's delineation, grasped the dagger, looked up at the Moon.