Nest of vipers eor-2

by Luke Devenish

  She kissed Plancina next, wrapping her fingers around the stumps of her old friend's wrists. 'How have you been getting on with these?'

  'As well as can be expected,' said Plancina.

  Livia smiled coyly. 'Well, here we all are.'

  The three sat together on the steps in the sun and began eating the food.

  'Did the haruspex have much to tell you, then?' asked Martina, her mouth full.

  'This and that.'

  'This and that? So he didn't have much at all?'

  Plancina knew her friend better. 'Just look at Livia's shining eyes. Thrasyllus told her a great many things before she cut his head off. Didn't he, Livia?'

  Livia had to laugh. 'You read me like a poem, Plancina.'

  'Out with it then,' said Martina. 'We haven't got all day.'

  Livia told them. When she was done, they sat in silence for a minute more, considering the first of their schemes. When it was planned, another was hatched, and then another quickly afterwards, and then another scheme again. Soon all the plans were in place but one. The food was consumed and they stood up on the steps to leave.

  'What about that ball-less prick, your Iphicles?' asked Martina. 'He's got it coming to him, after everything he's done to you.'

  Livia coolly agreed. Then she told them what she had in mind for me.

  The wicked friends laughed. Both agreed it was apt.

  Equirria

  October, AD 26

  Two weeks later: the freedman Atilius, gamesmaster of the catastrophe at

  Fidenae, is sentenced to exile

  Naked and glistening with oil, the aged Emperor Tiberius dived from the very highest rock in his grotto into the heated pool of springwater in a strong, graceful arc that was at odds with his advanced state of physical decay. Such athleticism should have killed him, yet it didn't. But if the pool had been in Rome, it would have. In the foul eternal city his body failed him daily, made rank with his stenches and pockmarked with his sores. There, Tiberius would throw the mirrors from his rooms in frenzy, screaming to be rid of his own reflection. But it was pointless. With every creaking step and sharp crack of flatulence his body signalled its imminent demise, and all while his mother gave the appearance of having lost decades. Yet here on the island of Capri Tiberius's destruction seemed less of a certainty. Perhaps it was the 'minnows'?

  Tiberius shot to the water's surface, shouting and laughing. The little creatures darted all around him, pecking at his limbs with their tiny puckered lips, nibbling at his privates with their harmless little teeth.

  'The darlings!' Tiberius called out in happiness to his beloved Sejanus. The Praetorian Prefect smiled from the side of the grotto pool, his cloak around his shoulders against the chill night air. In the luxury of the heated water Tiberius didn't feel the winter. Nor did his minnows. The Emperor giggled like an infant as they continued pressing their mouths to him beneath the water surface, licking and kissing his flesh. He flung his hands about, splashing and waving, and didn't see which ring it was that flew from his dripping fingers. Sejanus saw. The ring shot high into the air, coming to rest at the edge of the pool. Sejanus stooped to pick it up, while Tiberius began his favourite game of trying to trap an unwary minnow between his knees.

  Sejanus moved to where the candles burned in the grotto wall and felt for some soft, fresh wax. He found a likely lump and rolled it in his palm, letting it cool a little. Playfully, Tiberius caught a minnow that was slow in darting away, screaming with laughter as the creature thrashed between his legs.

  'You've got to be quicker than that!' Tiberius laughed. The minnow's thrashing lessened, but Tiberius held fast.

  Sejanus pressed the ring into the wax and kept it there for a moment, making sure the seal left an impression that was clear. He withdrew it and peered at the result. It was a perfect print. 'Your ring, Father,' he called to the pool.

  With only mild consternation Tiberius realised his Imperial seal was missing. 'You have it there?'

  'It flew from your finger.'

  'I must be losing weight,' said Tiberius. 'My fingers are getting thinner.' He released the minnow from between his knees and swam to the pool's edge. Sejanus handed the ring to him. 'It's all this good living here on Capri,' Tiberius said. 'I'm feeling fitter every day.'

  'It's because there is nothing to worry you here, Father,' said Sejanus. 'That's what restores your good health. Rome and its traitors are far away.'

  When Sejanus had saved his life in the rockfall, Tiberius knew he had been wrong to feel anything less than love for his Prefect. 'I have a mind not to return to Rome. What do you think?' The unmoving body of the minnow rose to the water's surface behind him.

  'I think it's an excellent idea. And who knows, Father — perhaps if you stay here on the island you will live on forever?'

  'Perhaps I will…' Tiberius pondered. He turned to see the minnow floating in the water in front of him. The mouths of the others gaped in fear from the surface, dragging in air before diving again to resume their nibbling. Tiberius stared at the face of the lifeless child. 'She is familiar…'

  'Who is?' Sejanus studied the ring print in the wax.

  'This minnow.'

  Sejanus glanced once at the girl. 'She was one of the Patrician Youth Choir — the last of them, Father.'

  Tiberius felt a distinct twinge of sadness, but it was gone before it could trouble him. As a precaution against its returning, he reached for his cup of the Eastern flower. He drank and was aware of the nibbling again. 'Aren't all these other little minnows from the choir?'

  'No, Father,' said Sejanus, immune to the Emperor's depravity. 'These other children were taken from parents who were traitors.'

  'I dislike seeing the minnows' numbers decrease. Find more for me, Sejanus.'

  The Prefect nodded, still studying the wax print of the ring. 'Anything you wish, Father.'

  When the Emperor and his Prefect had gone, a red-headed youth crept out of the grotto's shadows and knelt beside the pool's edge. The girl lay still upon the steps, half in the water, half out. The youth had seen her struggles and had wanted more than anything to help her, but he had been too frightened. Then, when she had floated lifeless to the surface, he had wept in silence and shame from his hiding place in the dark. But once the Emperor had gone, the red-haired youth had seen what they had missed. Her chest had risen. She had taken air.

  But now nothing moved. He placed his ear against her breast and it was still. He listened to her insides. There was no sound. Looking about him, his eyes fell on the burning candles. He crept to the grotto wall and took a waxy stump from its nook, protecting the flame with his fingers. It was beautiful. Just like the girl.

  Kneeling beside her again, the red-haired youth held the candle above her. He tilted his hand and a drop of liquid wax struck her skin. The girl stayed still. He tilted the candle further, letting the yellow flame itself caress her.

  The girl awoke with a shout.

  She was frightened when she saw him and realised what he had done. But when he made her see that she'd almost died and that his flame had saved her from Hades, she was grateful. But the island prison had corrupted her. She knew of no other way to thank the youth than to place his pale, white hand between her legs.

  Her name was Albucilla, she told him.

  Red-haired Ahenobarbus of the Aemilii could not tell her his name, although he wished to all the gods that he could. Even if he hadn't been born a mute, he suspected, he would have lost the power of speech anyway, such was the strength of Albucilla's earthy beauty.

  'I don't want it.'

  'But you must have it. You're already fourteen.'

  'I don't care — I don't want it. Are you deaf, Iphicles? I'm not going to tell you again.' Although Little Boots's anger was aimed wholly at me, his continued jealousy of Lygdus was such that he made sure his spittle struck the eunuch's face too, even though the matter had nothing to do with my apprentice. We three stood waiting for Livia to emerge from her suite.

&n
bsp; 'But it's your toga virilis — your robe of manhood. To refuse it is not done, domine.'

  'Not if I refuse to be a man. I'm a child.'

  'You're nearly fifteen.'

  He kicked me in the shin.

  ' Domine!'

  He took off down the hall before I could chase him.

  'Come back! The Augusta has requested to see you.'

  'You're just a fucking slave!'

  He was gone, leaving me clutching my poor shin, aghast. 'What's the matter with him?' I asked Lygdus. 'He's becoming unmanageable.'

  'Becoming?' said Lygdus with sarcasm. He wiped Little Boots's spittle from his cheek.

  'He still has the greatest respect for me, Lygdus. We are bonded.'

  'You're deluding yourself, just as you have deluded yourself about everything.'

  Tears rushed to my eyes and I had to blink them back. 'You are so hurtful, Lygdus. You never spoke to me this cruelly before.'

  'Before what?' He knew the answer but wanted me to say it.

  I just stared at him, heartbroken.

  'Before what, Iphicles? Before the domina recovered?'

  'Yes,' I whispered, ashamed. 'You know it.'

  'Well, she has recovered and everything has changed — for you more than anyone. And I am glad.' He leaned forward, mocking me with his look. 'When will she take her revenge on you? What form will it take? Will it be agonising?'

  'Lygdus.' A sob left my lips.

  'You led me into evil,' he hissed.

  'It was evil for the sake of a greater good.'

  'No, it wasn't. And it will never happen again. It's Little Boots we should have killed with the footbath water, not Castor.'

  'But the prophecies — '

  'They've been twisted by your lies. Just ask the domina. I already have, as it happens.'

  'You've been speaking to her without me there to protect you?'

  'Cybele came to her, after all, not to you.' Lygdus bent to whisper in my ear. 'And she has come to her again. I don't need you to hold my hand, Iphicles,' he laughed. 'The domina likes me. She tells me secrets.' He stood in contemptuous silence while I gave in to my tears. Then he passed me a small square of linen from his tunica pocket to wipe my eyes.

  'You shouldn't concern yourself with it,' he said, with something of his old friendliness. 'Your time has passed, that is all. You are tired and spent. It is not surprising you have so vilely misinterpreted things — and acted with such incompetence, too. It is understandable and even forgivable. But the domina needs youth and vigour now to complete her work, which of course you understand. Cybele has chosen a new Attis.'

  I gasped. Then I burned with raw anger. 'Go!' I spat at him. 'Leave me alone. The domina sent for me to bring Little Boots to her, not you. So go!'

  Lygdus didn't move. 'The domina summoned me here about another matter.'

  'What could that possibly be?' I demanded.

  Lygdus looked at me pityingly.

  'Tell me!'

  'Ah, Lygdus,' said Livia. 'Here you are.' She had appeared silently at the door of her suite while we argued. We threw ourselves to the floor.

  'No need for that,' she said. 'We are all friends.'

  Lygdus clambered upright again but the look she gave me when I followed him made me stay where I was.

  'What have you brought me?' she asked him.

  'Information,' Lygdus whispered. His tone was grave.

  I couldn't see his face from my position, but Livia's tone at once echoed his earnestness. 'My chair, then, while I try to find the fortitude to hear it, slave.'

  She wasn't talking to Lygdus. She meant me. Burning, I crawled on my belly to the wall where a chair rested and dragged the thing back to her while still prone. Livia sat down before I'd pulled my hand from beneath the chair's leg, and a pinch of my skin was caught between the leg and the floor. Livia made no attempt to free me.

  'Now, your information, Lygdus. Does it involve my great-grandson Drusus, as I feared?'

  'Yes, domina.'

  She tut-tutted. 'And my granddaughter Livilla?'

  'Her as well, domina. Things are just as you suspected.'

  Livia tut-tutted again.

  I was in agony but still my mind reeled, trying to calculate the implications. I knew nothing of any schemes involving Livilla and her transvestite nephew Drusus. I was completely in the dark.

  'What was the nature of the offer made?' asked Livia.

  'The Lady Livilla offered your great-grandson glory, domina.'

  'Of course she did. Although I'd be surprised if that alone were sufficient.'

  Lygdus nodded his head. 'She made the offer in her dressing room. There were no maids present. And when she had made it, she allowed him to remain in the room while she took herself away to the garden.' Lygdus lowered his voice to indicate his profound disgust. 'She permitted Drusus to remain in the dressing room alone for several hours, domina.'

  Livia was grim. 'What was so special to him that he needed such privacy, Lygdus?'

  'Her gowns…'

  Livia gripped the chair arms tightly, shutting her eyes. 'So depraved!'

  'Yes, domina.'

  There was silence.

  'And what did my granddaughter Livilla ask from Drusus in return for this "glory"?'

  'She asked that he supply damning information about his brother Nero in the future, domina.'

  'Did Drusus say he would provide it?'

  'He did.'

  A wretched cry came from Livia's throat and she fell forward with her hands to her face, sobbing into her knees. Lygdus wept too now, howling like a child. It was a long time before either was able to master their emotions. Livia finally righted herself again, her cheeks streaked with tears.

  'Brother betrays brother. There is such evil in my family, Lygdus.'

  'Yes, domina,' he whispered.

  There was silence again. Livia shifted her weight in the chair and the pressure intensified on my trapped hand. I nearly lost consciousness from the pain. Then she shifted once more and the agony eased slightly, but I still didn't pull myself free.

  Lygdus spoke. 'We will not let Nero be betrayed, will we, domina?'

  She shook her head. 'Not while I breathe.'

  The eunuch's face flushed with relief. 'The gods bless you for it, domina.'

  'Now, now.'

  'You are his saviour, his protector.'

  She gently beckoned the eunuch to come close and brushed her lips on his cheek. 'Perhaps he is the real second king?' she whispered. Then she leaned back in the chair so that my trapped hand was tortured anew.

  Lygdus saw my redoubled pain and cared nothing. 'Some have claimed it is another,' he said.

  'The only claims we should listen to are Cybele's,' said Livia. 'It is our privilege to make the wisest interpretations we can of her words. But some are wiser than others. Beware of frauds, Lygdus, and those who wrongly claim to know the goddess's mind.'

  Lygdus narrowed his eyes at me.

  'You may leave me now,' she said to him.

  The eunuch bowed and was gone. I remained where I was, in misery on the floor, my hand pinned beneath her chair. Livia didn't move. Then, after another short interval, she said, 'I asked you to bring my grandson Little Boots to me.'

  'He was here and then he left again, domina,' I managed to reply.

  'I see. What an insult to his great-grandmother.'

  'He was sulking about his toga virilis,' I tried to explain. 'He refuses to wear one, which is disgraceful. He's already fourteen.'

  'The boy knows his own mind. He shall not wear one, then.'

  I was horrified. 'But that's… unprecedented!'

  'Let him stay a boy. Perhaps Tiberius will like him for it?'

  My mind raced trying to work out what game Livia was playing. She abruptly stood up and my hand was freed.

  'Tiberius barely knows who Little Boots is,' I whispered.

  'There you are wrong. A letter has come, stamped with the Emperor's own seal, requesting your beloved Littl
e Boots to join him on Capri.'

  The blood left my face. 'What for?'

  Livia looked up at the tall window that filled her anteroom with light. She placed her hand on the silk curtain, letting it linger there for a moment before she gripped the silk in her fist, watching her knuckles turn white as she pulled. The curtain, its rings and the long bronze rod that supported them came crashing to the floor.

  'I don't know what for,' said Livia. 'Perhaps he wants Little Boots to add to his entertainment?'

  Chills shot along my spine. 'He will kill him!'

  'Surely not.'

  'Sejanus will kill him, then — it's a plot. He means him harm, domina. Don't let the boy go, I beg you!'

  'You beg me? I can scarcely imagine that.'

  I crawled along the floor on my belly until I reached her foot. I began to kiss her toes through the slipper. 'Please, domina.'

  Livia stooped and took up the curtain rod, letting the rings slide down its length. They fell to the floor, and she lifted the rod high in the air like Victory's sword. 'Too late, I'm afraid — he's going.'

  I pressed my lips to her ankle, closing my eyes tight. 'Nero is not the second king, domina.'

  She smashed the rod hard on my back and then raised it again. 'I know that,' she said. She smashed the metal onto my thighs. 'But your greatest mistake was having an opinion about it in the first place.'

  She dashed the rod across my back again and again.

  As he entered his house in Rome at last, after so many weeks away, Sejanus felt in no way cheated by the sentence of exile that had been passed upon the gamesmaster at Fidenae. It had been within Sejanus's power to have the sentence upped to the cruellest execution imaginable, yet he had not done so. The Forum mob would have loved him for it, but their hatred was far more satisfying. And it was somehow even more pleasing with the blend of the Eastern flower supplied to him by the hunchback.

  She who had once appeared loathsome now seemed like a friend. She understood the way that hatred so aroused him. She encouraged him with her eyes. If her disfigurement were not so repellent, he would have made sexual penetration part of their transaction, enjoying the hunchback in front of her fire. Her lustful eyes told him she would have relished such a privilege.

  Fuelled by the morning's first draught, Sejanus had allowed the gamesmaster's sentence to pass uncontested in the Senate and had laughed at the mob's howls. The wretch would be hunted down and killed as soon as he left the city walls anyway, but Sejanus liked being seen as having no part in the vengeance. When he finally came to rule in his own right, he would not have himself known as a king who listened to Rome's basest desires. He would do all that he could to be thought of as a king who excoriated them.