Empress Of Rome 1: Den Of Wolves
Page 1
Table of Contents
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Cast of Characters
PROLOGUE
I AM ONLY YOUR SLAVE The Ides of February 44 BC
MURDER BRINGS THE PROMISE OF POWER The Ides of March 44 BC
The Nones of April 40 BC
The Kalends of October 40 BC
Sacramentum January, 39 BC
Lupercalia February, 39 BC
Cerealia April, 39 BC
Equirria October, 39 BC
Bona Dea December, 39 BC
The Nones of January 38 BC
The Kalends of August 30 BC
The Nones of July 29 BC
THERE IS A SHE-WOLF IN THE SHADOWS, KING Floralia April, 25 BC
Lemuria May, 23 BC
The Anniversary of the Battle of Lake Trasimene June, 22 BC
Agonalia January, 13 BC
Quinquatria March, 12 BC
Carmentalia January, 11 BC
THE FIRST WILL BE HE WHO NESTS FOR THE CUCKOO Vestalia June, 10 BC
The Ides of March 9 BC
Fordicia April, 9 BC
Septimontium September, 2 BC
Equirria October, 2 BC
The Nones of September AD 9
The Ides of August AD 14
THE SECOND WILL BE HE WHO WEARS HIS FATHER’S CROWN Epulum Jovis November, AD 15
Brumalia November, AD 15
Saturnalia December, AD 15
Floralia May, AD 17
The Kalends of July AD 17
Lupercalia February, AD 18
The Kalends of July AD 18
The Kalends of October AD 19
The Ides of November AD 19
READ ON FOR A SAMPLE FIRST CHAPTER OF EMPRESS OF ROME II: NEST OF VIPERS Mercuralia May, AD 20
Acknowledgements
Luke Devenish is a novelist, screenwriter, playwright and lecturer. He has written for some of Australia’s best-loved television dramas, including Neighbours, Home and Away, Something in the Air and SeaChange. His plays have been staged by Melbourne’s Malthouse Theatre, the Adelaide Festival, the Sydney Festival and the National Institute for Dramatic Arts. Luke teaches writing at the Australian Film, Television and Radio School, the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology and Monash University. A passionate gardener, he lives with his partner and pets in the Goldfields region of central Victoria.
Visit his website: www.lukedevenish.com.
DEN of
WOLVES
LUKE DEVENISH
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Empress of Rome: Den of Wolves
ePub ISBN 9781864715903
Kindle ISBN 9781864716863
A Bantam book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney, NSW 2060
www.randomhouse.com.au
First published by Bantam in 2008
This edition published in 2010
Copyright © Luke Devenish 2008
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia.
Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at
www.randomhouse.com.au/offices.
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry
Devenish, Luke, 1966–
Den of wolves/Luke Devenish
ISBN 978 1 86325 622 3 (pbk)
Devenish, Luke, 1966– Empress of Rome bk 1
A823.4
Cover photographs by Caterina Bernardi/Getty Images (front) and
Shutterstock (back)
Cover design by Natalie Winter
Internal design and typesetting by Midland Typesetters, Australia
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Mum and Dad, for their endless encouragement – and
to Andrew Brown, for his endless patience.
Cast of Characters
THE HOUSE OF LIVIA
IPHICLES Narrator, slave and god
LIVIA Iphicles’s beloved domina, named in prophecy
TIBERIUS NERO Livia’s boy husband, also named in prophecy
MARCUS LIVIUS Livia’s father, head of the Claudian clan
HEBE Livia’s ‘pet’, crippled in fire
LOLLIA Livia’s friend and adopted sister
PLANCINA Lollia’s unprepossessing child
MARTINA Shape-shifting sorceress
THRASYLLUS Soothsayer for the words of Cybele
HERMAPHRODITE Thrasyllus’s ‘mother’
THE HOUSE OF OCTAVIAN
OCTAVIAN Triumvir of Rome
JULIUS CAESAR Octavian’s uncle and adoptive father, head of the Julian clan
SCRIBONIA Octavian’s wife
JULIA Daughter of Octavian and Scribonia
OCTAVIA Octavian’s elder sister
MARCELLUS Octavia’s son from an earlier marriage
MARCELLA Octavia’s daughter from the same marriage
CLEMENS Octavian’s illegitimate son by Hebe
THE HOUSE OF ANTONY
ANTONY Triumvir of Rome, Octavian’s rival
CLEOPATRA Antony’s lover, Queen of Egypt
FULVIA Antony’s firebrand first wife, fought against Octavian
ANTYLLUS First son of Antony and Fulvia
JULLUS Second son of Antony and Fulvia, in love with Julia
ANTONIA Antony’s daughter by Octavia, married to Drusus
THE HOUSE OF AGRIPPA
AGRIPPA Octavian’s loyal second-in-command
GAIUS Agrippa’s first son by Julia
LUCIUS Agrippa’s second son by Julia
AGRIPPINA Agrippa’s daughter by Julia, married to Germanicus
POSTUMUS Agrippa’s third son by Julia
THE HOUSE OF TIBERIUS
TIBERIUS First son of Livia and Tiberius Nero
VIPSANIA Tiberius’s wife, daughter of Agrippa from an earlier marriage
CASTOR Son of Tiberius and Vipsania, married to Livilla
TIBERIA Castor’s daughter by Livilla
SEJANUS Tiberius’s Praetorian Prefect and ‘son’
APICATA Sejanus’s wife, blind
PISO Consular Senator, married to Plancina
THE HOUSE OF DRUSUS
DRUSUS Second son of Livia and Tiberius Nero, married to Antonia
GERMANICUS Drusus’s first son by Antonia, married to Agrippina
LIVILLA Drusus’s daughter by Antonia, married to Castor
CLAUDIUS Drusus’s second son by Antonia, crippled
NERO First son of Germanicus and Agrippina
DRUSUS II Second son of Germanicus and Agrippina
LITTLE BOOTS Third son of Germanicus and Agrippina
NILLA First daughter of Germanicus and Agrippina
DRUSILLA Second daughter of Germanicus and Agrippina
JULILLA Third daughter of Germanicus and Agrippina
NYMPHOMIDIA Slave, lover of Clemens
BURRUS Slave, son of Clemens and Nymphomidia
PROLOGUE
The Day of Ill Omens
July, AD 65
The first anniversary
of the Great Fire of Rome
The empress tugged and pulled with such terror at the chain that we half-feared her wrists would snap and let her slip free before the job was done. Yet her thin bones held strong for the moment and only the skin appeared broken as the chain stretched taut, pulled to its limit while she stumbled weeping in hopeless circles around the stake that tethered her to the sand.
Acte and I observed her from beneath the undertaker’s gate, taking refuge in the shade. We felt little for her plight, so little in fact that our minds dwelled entirely on my plan.
‘Are you thinking of it now?’ Acte asked me.
‘I am, yes.’
‘I have brought a stylus and a tablet with me,’ said Acte. ‘Perhaps you could dictate some of it to me, while we wait. What do you think, Iphicles?’
I smiled at the high regard with which she already held my intended great work. I had only confided my plan to her that morning, after all, although it was true that I had been giving thought to writing it for far longer than that. But with the latest violent events, the climax of so many before them, the time had seemed right at last not only to share my plan with a trusted friend but now to commence it.
‘That is very well, Acte,’ I said, feeling proud of myself, ‘I believe I’ve composed the opening words while I’ve been standing here.’
‘Let’s make a little start then,’ she replied, delighted.
I began to dictate, still watching the desperate empress pulling at her tether, while graceful Acte scratched down my words.
‘I am only your slave,’ I began. ‘It is all that I am and all that I know. I have no shame of it. I present myself before you humbly but happily, casting down my eyes and awaiting your request. I stand in hopeful silence by the wall, at your shoulder, at the end of your bed. I am ready with a parasol to shield you or a strigil to scrape you. I offer my arse for your pleasure if you wish for it, or my back for your whip if I offend you.
‘Use me. It is your right to do so. My life has no worth to you, nor would I wish it to. My thoughts are valueless, my emotions and sensations are of no importance to you. I am not a man; it is a crime to think of me as such. I will never vote nor marry, serve in the legions, nor love the children I father. I am an object to be bought and sold, with my feet chalked white and a tablet around my neck listing my flaws and accomplishments. I am no more than furniture. I am no less than an implement. I am Iphicles,’ I declared with a satisfied pause, ‘but I am alive.’
Acte scratched the last of the words, a little breathless from keeping up with me. I waited for her opinion, but she was silent for a moment, reading back on what she had written.
‘Well?’ I said.
She looked up at me in some awe. ‘It’s excellent – a very strong beginning, Iphicles.’
I was pleased. Then I caught of flash of movement from the tiers at the other end of the arena. Our master had arrived and it was time for our more mundane roles. I slipped the mask over my face and Acte put on her helmet.
‘I’ll bring the tablet with me,’ she said. ‘You can continue the dictation during the dull bits.’
The empress saw Acte and I emerge from the shadows. ‘The key!’ she screamed at us. ‘Give me the key! I’ll unlock myself from the chain and amuse him again in some other way …’
Acte and I shielded our eyes from the sun to squint up into the empty rows of stone seating. We’d lost sight of him.
‘I’ve done nothing to deserve this, I’m innocent,’ the empress implored us. ‘You know me, slaves. You love me …’
It took us a moment to locate our master again in the harsh glare, but we found him, the noon summer sun picking him out in his robes. He was not enthroned in the Imperial box but was wandering along the empty tiers; an audience of one for this private damnatio ad bestias. There were no sailors from Misenum to unfurl the shade awnings, no slaves to spray the air with scented water as there would have been if this were the games. The vast arena was vacant and the July sun beat hard without mercy.
‘Dictate some more,’ Acte whispered to me.
I looked up at our master. He seemed here but not here, not even staring at the empress but only at the hazy summer sky. He was searching for birds, of course – omens.
‘All right then,’ I said, and cleared my throat. I continued from where I had left off, but in a softer voice now.
‘It falls to me to make this history because there is no-one else left,’ I dictated. ‘I am awed by such responsibility but I will not abuse it. I will tell you truthfully of all that I saw, of all that I witnessed. Of those hidden things that I did not see, I will tell you too, because they were revealed to me by others, sometimes years, sometimes decades later. And of those things that I could never have seen – the innermost fears, desires and hatreds of my masters – believe me when I tell you that I know of these things better than my masters ever did themselves. I know because it was my destiny to know, and perhaps my curse. I will share all with you.
‘I am ready for this task before me, even though I am not a scholar. My intention is to entertain you, and once that is achieved, I will seek to enlighten you. I know of no other way to approach this history. You are my master and there is no alternate path for me but that which leads to your pleasure.’
‘Oh, that’s very fine indeed,’ said Acte, scratching down the last of it. She turned the wax tablet over, ready to start on the other side.
The empress’s cries increased in hysteria and attracted our master’s attention for the first time. His focus moved from the birdless sky to the arena floor, but he gave no sign that the proceedings should cease. Acte and I set about our tasks, putting the tablet aside. Beautiful Acte was meant to be Mercury for the occasion, and very comely she looked too, helmeted and dressed in the brief tunica of a boy, with winged sandals on her feet. Our master’s approval of her attire, when I glanced up at him again, was obvious.
Acte picked up the bronze snake-entwined caduceus and placed the tip of its staff within the red-hot embers of a little brazier. I had been given the more appropriate role of Rhadamanthus – judge of the Underworld – and so wore tall, dark boots and a baleful mask. My implement was the long Etruscan hammer, and I didn’t need to heat it in the brazier for the chore I was shortly to perform. Both ready, we took our places behind the protective cage at the arena’s edge and proceeded to wait again.
‘He’s going at a snail’s pace,’ said Acte. ‘Dictate some more for me.’
I didn’t need to summon the muse – she was with me fully. ‘As I prepare to commence this history I look back to events that began well over one hundred years ago,’ I said. ‘Could this really be true? Could I have reached and surpassed a century and more in my lifetime? It would seem that I have. They tell me that no other slave’s face is as lined and leathered as mine. They tell me that no other slave has skin so thin and fragile. I look at my hands and see the web of violet veins beneath the membrane that sags to contain them. I hold my hands to the sun and the light shines through them as if they were glass; I can see the bones. Perhaps I am so old then? But I am not ill, and I have never known disease or infirmity. I eat as I have always eaten, with hearty appetite like a growing child. I complete my daily tasks. I sleep soundly at night. And sometimes, when my master still thinks of it, I am given a girl to enjoy and I do so in my fashion. My body functions as it always has: neither heroically nor shamefully. It endures.’
‘Indeed it does, Iphicles,’ Acte said with some reverence. The helmet slipped forward on her head as she wrote the last of it and I straightened it for her.
In the centre of the arena the empress’s pleading became incoherent, the words running together in confusion with only the repeated phrase ‘I love you’ discernable. Never before had I heard the cries of a condemned criminal so clearly. Usually they were lost among the jeers of the mob and the gaudy chords of the water organ. But today, with the mob oblivious to her fate and the water organ standing idle, the empress’s noise filled the vast, empty space, her every sob, curse and pitiful moan amplified a hundred-fold for our ears alone. This was exactly as our master had intended, and I confess I found it pleasurable.
The empress ran out of words.
In the long silence that followed, husband and wife stared at each other across the cavernous distance that divided them.
‘Dictate some more,’ Acte whispered.
I peered at our distant master and decided to risk it.
‘So it must be true then, I am ancient,’ I whispered back as Acte obligingly scribbled, ‘but in my heart I know I am more. I wasn’t born as I am – I became it. My powers of endurance emerged, I believe, when I reached my point of greatest suffering. A sacrifice I made so long ago transformed me into what I am – but I will tell you of that in time. For now know this: I am Iphicles. I am only your slave.’ I made another dramatic pause before I delivered my final, triumphant flourish with a smile: ‘But I am also a god.’
Acte thrilled to the words and I felt a deep sense of contentment.
‘That will do for the moment,’ I said, feeling the strain a little now. ‘I think our master is ready at last …’
Chained to the stake, the empress was opening and closing her mouth to plead again, but something about our master’s expression dried the words in her throat. For once he was unreadable. Whether he was enjoying her terror was impossible to tell. But what was plain was the lust for the empress that still fired inside him, despite everything she’d done. Our master’s purple robes tented at his loins.
Seeing this herself, the empress clutched at the hope that perhaps all was not lost, that perhaps there was a chance for her still, however small. She clawed with her chained hands at her stola until the garment shredded and gave way, exposing her beautiful breasts to the sun. Would he spare her? Would he love and forgive her again?
My master drank in the sight of her nakedness as he had the first time she’d unveiled herself for him. They had both been adulterers then, liars and cheats. And in so many ways they still were.