Nest of vipers eor-2

by Luke Devenish

  'You dropped this!' he shouted. Macro stopped again and looked to where Little Boots pointed. 'A sealed letter. You dropped it.'

  Macro made no move to retrieve the thing, watching Little Boots. Not knowing what game was being played, the young man stooped and picked it up for him, holding it out.

  'That's unfortunate,' said Macro.

  Little Boots just looked in confusion.

  'Look, the wax is cracked,' Macro went on. 'The seal is broken. It must have happened when you touched it.'

  Affronted, Little Boots went to defend himself but Macro raised his hand to stop him. 'If I weren't in such a hurry to return to Rome, I would go back to the Emperor and ask him to seal it again. But I do not have the time.'

  Little Boots tried to fathom what was really being said to him.

  'Perhaps you can bring it to the Emperor's attention?' said Macro. 'I will collect the letter when I return in five days' time — provided the Emperor remembers to reseal it. If he does not remember, then perhaps you can bring that to his attention too?'

  Macro departed, leaving Little Boots holding the document in silence. The Prefect's real instruction was clear. He wanted Little Boots to read what the document contained. But why? Would it help Little Boots to discover all that he presently had not? He slowly unfurled the papyrus in the thin November sun, letting the cracked fragments of wax break off and fall to the ground.

  It was Tiberius's directive to the Senate instructing the release of Little Boots's mother and brother.

  With Little Boots having been snoring upstairs in their cramped room for hours, Aemilius rubbed his eyes and prepared to join him, blowing out his oil lamp and putting his pen and ink away. He shared Little Boots's frustration at having to complete scholarly tasks now that both of them were men, but he did not share his friend's recklessness. The thought of defying the Revered Lady Antonia's orders — and, what's more, being caught by her for it — filled Aemilius with dread. And so, whenever Little Boots fell asleep before he did, which was now quite often, Aemilius took the opportunity to slip away and cram in secret in a little downstairs room. He had managed to read a great deal in this manner, comforting himself that he could answer any and all of Antonia's questions, should the formidable matron return to quiz him.

  Tucking his scroll of Livy's History of Early Rome under his arm, Aemilius entered the ground floor latrine. He disliked sitting down on household lavatories when it wasn't necessary, preferring to piss from the standing position, as if filling up a fuller's pot. It was of no concern to him that half his urine missed its mark. He stared into space, trying to recall as many of Livy's names and events as he could, until he realised that his piss was making an unusual sound as it struck the sewer below. It was not the sound of water hitting water, but of water hitting something that didn't belong in there. Livy left his head. Aemilius shook himself off and peered into the void. A crumpled piece of papyrus floated on the water, the remains of its red wax seal still visible. It was the Emperor's mark. Intrigued, Aemilius considered fishing the thing out to read it.

  'Here you are,' said Little Boots, sticking his head around the door.

  Aemilius jumped. 'I thought you were asleep.'

  'How can I sleep at a time like this?'

  'It's long past sunset — when else are you supposed to sleep?'

  'When my grandmother hasn't just shown up, for a start.'

  Aemilius was shocked. 'Lady Antonia is here?'

  'Her ship has docked. She's in a hell of a temper, demanding all of us attend her so she can discuss the schoolwork she set.'

  'But it's the middle of the night.'

  'You'll tell that to my grandmother, will you?'

  Aemilius knew he would do nothing of the kind. But he felt the scroll of Livy under his arm and felt a degree less panicked.

  'Go ahead, they're all gathering,' said Little Boots. 'I'm right behind you.'

  When his friend had left the room, Little Boots loosened his loincloth and sat at the latrine. Nature took its course, and he gave a satisfied smile at what it was also doing to the crumpled piece of papyrus.

  When my domina proposed I accompany her on a walk through the streets to the Temple of the Great Mother, I threw myself to the floor automatically.

  'Thank you, domina — it would be a great honour.'

  After several moments of silence I looked up from the floor, thinking I had offended her again.

  Livia was looking at me, but not with anger. 'Just the two of us will walk,' she said. 'No one else.'

  I writhed again at her feet. 'Such, such a great honour.'

  She rolled her eyes. 'Too much grovelling from you. I'm bored with it. Time to smarten yourself up, Iphicles, if you want to get on. I'm bored with having to spell everything out to you.'

  I lurched upright as fast as my old bones would let me. 'Spell everything out?'

  'Sometimes you're just cretinous,' she said, making her way down the corridor. I struggled to keep up, trying to guess what she had planned. I was at a loss but had no intention of staying behind and missing out.

  We stepped into the Palatine streets and began our progress towards the summit of the hill, where the Temple stood, but we'd barely gone a hundred feet when we sighted fresh graffiti upon a wall: When the moment of succession arrives, the son of Germanicus will have the full support of the Praetorian Guard.

  I was astonished and had to reread it, repeating the words aloud. 'The son of Germanicus… Moment of succession… Full support of the Guard.'

  'Isn't it appalling?' said Livia, watching me read. 'These ruffians with their paintbrushes should have their hands cut off for defacing property. I deplore whoever pays them to write such provocative things.'

  I knew without question it was her. 'This concerns the second king.'

  'Does it?' She resumed the walk towards the Temple.

  I hurried to stay at her side, a new excitement empowering me. 'Does this mean you accept what I have been saying about the identity of the second king?'

  'Possibly,' said Livia, now in a playful mood.

  This was momentous for me. ' Domina,' I stammered, 'when did you at last come to believe that Little Boots would be that king?'

  'When it became so irrelevant.'

  I stopped dead. 'Irrelevant? The second king?'

  'Yes. Completely irrelevant.'

  'But Cybele? Her prophecies?'

  'Also irrelevant. I had it all wrong. Thrasyllus showed me my error. First in a dream while I was paralysed at your hands, and then again, right before I cut his head off. When I think of it, I'm ashamed. All those years spent fretting about my kings, when if only I'd known what the goddess actually had in store, I could have saved myself. She sent her original prophecies to test my mettle, I think, to see what I was made of — to see if I was worthy of her.'

  I was hopelessly confused. The sky-blue face of the Temple came into view.

  'Yes, the second king couldn't be more irrelevant,' Livia declared.

  I snapped. 'That's ridiculous, domina! What could be more important than the second king?'

  She smiled wickedly at me. 'The second queen?'

  I could only stand there with my mouth open.

  'All that time worrying about Tiberius's successor, when really we should have been worrying about my own.'

  ' Your successor, domina?'

  'Indeed. Which descendant from my womb will be Empress of Rome?' Livia winked at me. 'That's the real position of power, of course, and of so much greater interest to the goddess. But you already know that, don't you, Iphicles?'

  I realised I did. 'Who is this second queen?' I whispered in awe.

  She told me.

  We reached the great temple's steps and Livia began to ascend, with me following her. 'Where do you think you're going?' she demanded.

  I was still reeling and couldn't answer.

  'I warned you about all this spelling out — I've had enough of it,' she said. 'For the final time you are no longer Attis, therefore you
cannot come in here. The shrine of Cybele is no longer open to you, slave.'

  Crushed, I begged her for final enlightenment. 'Just tell me who I am, domina. Which temple is my own?'

  She pulled the veil from her face and held it before her, as light as gossamer. 'The winds will direct you to it,' she said. 'I'm afraid I've lost all patience.' She turned on her heel, letting the hillside breeze snatch the veil from her hand and take it high in the air. Confounded, I heard Livia laughing at me as I went to run after it.

  Exhausted, I stood staring in dismay at where the veil had come to rest. 'This is no temple, domina!' I yelled with frustration. It was Calypso's Spell, a dilapidated brothel in the Subura. My heart sank as I realised Livia was still playing jokes to torment me. I was indeed cretinous for believing a floating veil could illuminate anything.

  A familiar head stuck out of the brothel door. 'Gods help me — it's the ball-less stud.'

  'Lena?' It was the brassy madam from Circe's Enchantments.

  'So, how do I look? Do you like my new wig?'

  I couldn't muster any comment.

  'Charming. It's a third-rate wig, I admit, but it's all I could afford.' She hooked a thumb at the sordid shop front. 'My circumstances are reduced. I lost my best whores in that cave-in.'

  Too disappointed, I didn't pay attention to the rest of Lena's story, even when she offered me a discount for old times' sake. With the madam still talking at me, I wandered away, leaving the veil where it lay in the mud.

  Veiovis

  May, AD 33

  Eighteen months later: Emperor Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus upbraids the Senate for approving the inclusion of a newly unearthed book of Sibylline oracles in the official prophecies

  Mimicking Agrippina's inflections perfectly, Little Boots read his mother's latest letter aloud. It was filled with jokes and asides, Forum and theatre gossip, and plenty of tidbits about Oxheads. Agrippina had proven herself a dedicated correspondent since her apparent release from imprisonment. Reclining on a terrace couch together, with the sisters Drusilla and Julilla nearby, Tiberius and Antonia adored Agrippina's uncharacteristically amusing communications.

  '"And so I can confirm that my life of retirement here is a joyful, if quiet one now,"' Little Boots read out, coming to the end. '"Beautiful Nilla is more in love with her Ahenobarbus than ever, and we all share their hopes for a healthy child to heal the wound left in their hearts from the baby that died."'

  Antonia nodded. 'Such a relief about Nilla,' she said, patting Tiberius's hand. 'I had once feared they were ill-suited.'

  Tiberius smiled, benignly, his eyes far away.

  '"Until next I write, my dear Little Boots, please give my heartfelt wishes to the Emperor, in whose loving heart I know you prosper. I thank the gods for the role of father he plays in your life. He is our greatest Roman, so just and wise. And I am ever your devoted mother, Agrippina."'

  Little Boots glanced at his sisters. Their faces held little expression. But Antonia brushed tears from her eyes. 'So moving,' she said. 'And after all she suffered at Sejanus's hands. Now her life is whole again, and your brother Drusus, too.'

  'We have so much to be grateful for, Grandmother,' Little Boots nodded. 'But Drusus has been tardy with his own letters this month.'

  'Perhaps one will come from him tomorrow,' suggested Antonia.

  Little Boots smiled, but avoided his sisters' eyes. 'I can almost feel it.'

  Tiberius's glassy smile shifted. 'Well, now, perhaps a stroll, dear friend?' he said to Antonia. Stretching his withered limbs, he got up from the couch they shared. 'After all this happy news, shall we digest it in the sun?'

  'Very nice,' said Antonia, linking her arm in his as she stood.

  Tiberius took a cup from a tray. 'I'd better carry this foul stuff with me,' he grimaced. 'Doctor's orders.'

  At the terrace periphery the physician Charicles bowed.

  'It smells so disgusting.' Antonia wrinkled her nose with a dark look at the obsequious Greek. 'You are very cruel to your Emperor to insist he drinks such a brew,' she admonished Charicles.

  'For Caesar's weak lungs,' the physician murmured, bowing again. A trickle of urine ran down his leg. Charicles read the pointed look that Little Boots gave him and he hobbled away. Oblivious, Tiberius and Antonia strolled among the early spring blooms.

  As Little Boots returned to the villa, he heard Drusilla behind him.

  'I am so grateful that our mother is free and well again,' she said. 'And our brother, too.'

  'We have much to thank the gods for,' Little Boots agreed.

  'Even though, hurtfully, they write only to you…'

  Not for the first time, Little Boots sought to hide his dreadful secret by making excuses for the apparent neglect. But Drusilla stopped him. Her look was bold and direct. 'Would I be right, brother, in guessing that the brew for our grandfather's "weak lungs" contains the strange draught that once so altered his mind?'

  'Drusilla!' Little Boots's attempt to look shocked was so unconvincing that his sister only laughed at him.

  'Just as I thought — he's pathetic,' said Drusilla. 'And that pants-wetting doctor is in on it too.'

  Little Boots squirmed.

  'Oh, don't worry,' said Drusilla. 'I know you're up to something, but I won't tell anyone — especially Grandmother Antonia.'

  Little Boots narrowed his eyes at his sister. 'What do you want, Drusilla?'

  She parted her lips, running her fingers across the fabric of her stola bodice. 'I want to drink it again — I so enjoyed it last time.'

  Her brother was stripped of words for some moments. 'You remember it from last time?'

  'Of course I do. Bits of it, anyway. And what I do recall… well, it was really rather nice. Wasn't it, brother?'

  Little Boots vowed to obtain Drusilla some more of the draught — and more again, if she wished for it.

  Through the grate in the cell door, I watched with dispassion as the transvestite Drusus went mad.

  'They were trying to starve me, Iphicles — or that's what I thought.'

  'Starve you? Surely not, domine,' I said, making notes on a tablet with my stylus.

  He was naked, caked in filth, his young bones sharp against his skin. He could no longer see, so I had lied to him, claiming it was night. 'That's what I thought,' he said. 'No food had come for days. I feared they wanted me to die in here for the lack of it.'

  'But that seems unnecessarily cruel, domine,' I said, thinking of how his aunt Livilla had been found dead with her face missing, chewed off by Scylax.

  'But I was wrong,' Drusus laughed, 'wrong all along. There was a wonderful meal in my cell the whole time.' He put another piece of mattress stuffing into his mouth. 'Delicious,' he declared.

  'Very good, domine,' I smiled at him. 'Shall we return to the story of your life now?'

  'Why not?' Drusus replied, swallowing.

  Not feeling any need to inform my domina, I had taken it upon myself to record the condemned young man's memoirs before he expired, just as I had already recorded, with no real purpose in mind, the memories of a number of others who also feature in this history. And I would do so again, with quite a few more.

  I looked down at the words I had written and felt doubly privileged to have been the scribe. Drusus had told me that when his hunger pangs had been at their most unbearable, he had heard a persistent voice in his ear.

  ' One brother's crime sees him dine at leisure of his bed…'

  But now that he was eating again, Drusus had told me, the voice had gone away.

  Feeling Death's wings beating close, Agrippina slipped in and out of consciousness. The gladiator was in her cell, bending to kiss her lips.

  'Flamma,' she whispered.

  'The afterlife awaits you, Lady,' he said, his hair golden in the light from the open cell door. 'We will live there as lovers.'

  'But I can't go yet, Flamma. Tell them — '

  'The decision isn't yours, Lady,' he smiled. 'When Death decides, you
must go.'

  'Please… Not while my children's fates are unknown.'

  Flamma was reassuring. 'Nero and Drusus have already passed and are waiting there for you.'

  A tear fell from her ruined eye. 'It is so unjust for them.'

  'Ssh, now,' Flamma comforted her. 'It could not be helped. But Drusilla and Julilla are alive and safe, with their brother Little Boots to protect them.'

  She held this to her heart. 'What of Nilla? I fear her fate in such a marriage.'

  Flamma assuaged her. 'Nilla has two more marriages ahead of her, Lady, and each union will be more auspicious than the last. Ahenobarbus's time will be forgotten.'

  She sighed, relieved.

  'But you must know,' Flamma added, 'that the men who will love her most will not be her husbands. Yet they will never leave her side.'

  'Not her husbands? How can it be?'

  'Because they are her slaves, Lady. Yet not slaves at all. One is the lost grandson of Augustus.'

  She was awed. 'And the other?'

  Flamma said my name.

  Hearing Death's wings directly above her now, Agrippina kissed the gladiator's hands. 'Have the gods spoken to you of these things?'

  'A goddess has. Cybele…' His image began to melt in her fading vision. 'She told me what you must know about Nilla's golden future.'

  When Flamma had told her everything, he spoke words she had heard once before: ' One would-be queen is one-eyed too until the truth gives comforts.' It all made sense to her now, and she was comforted truly.

  Flamma kissed her a final time, before turning to leave. 'Don't go,' she whispered. But as he stepped into the light that streamed through the cell door, his softening, shimmering appearance dissolved into Livia's.

  'You?'

  My domina looked humble.

  With her final moments ebbing, Agrippina found she wasn't shocked to see her enemy. With all she had been told of the golden future, she realised now why her father and mother, her brothers and husband had all had to die at my domina 's hands.

  'I am no longer filled with rage for their deaths,' she said, closing her eyes.

  Livia left the prison cell behind her, serene in all she had achieved. She hoped this might be the moment when the tiny voice would come to her ear. She had been expecting it and the timing seemed right. She was not disappointed.