Nest of vipers eor-2

by Luke Devenish

  ' Your work is done, it's time to leave — the sword is yours to pass…' the voice told her.

  She corrected it. 'My work is almost done,' she said. 'I must retain my sword a little longer.'

  Macro was standing near her litter in the square, and Livia's demeanour changed as she approached him.

  'I am tired of this waiting,' he announced.

  'Too bad,' said Livia. 'Find patience.'

  'My patience has expired. I want to put things into play with Little Boots before we die of old age.'

  Livia was stern. 'He is nowhere near ready, and he will not be ready until he realises the move for himself.'

  'The stupid boy hasn't the head for it.'

  Livia stepped into her litter. 'Well, of course he hasn't — yet. But he will, I can promise that. When he does, your time will also come, my lover, but not a second before.'

  Macro chewed at his lip, bristling.

  Livia went to flick the curtains closed against him but then thought of something. 'There is another plan you can put into play.'

  'For your great-grandson?'

  'For my great-granddaughter, Nilla.'

  'She's a recluse. She never leaves her house.'

  Livia's look was cynical. 'I see threats to us in the girl. Her life of seclusion and grief is an act.'

  Macro raised an eyebrow as the bearers lifted the litter, bringing Livia's face level with his. She leaned in close to him, her lips brushing his. 'Nilla has a hold on Little Boots that could destroy everything we've achieved so far.'

  Macro considered this. 'Do you want me to kill her?'

  Livia made a show of pondering his offer before coming to a 'decision'.

  As the litter carried her away, Livia was surprised to hear the whispered voice once more. ' The end, the end, your mother says — to deception now depend…'

  This annoyed her. 'I have never depended on anyone more than Deception,' she replied. 'And yes, I will continue to depend upon him once I am gone,' Livia added, silencing the insistent voice.

  Lena placed a veil across her face and stepped out the door of Calypso's Spell, looking up and down the street for a public litter. She spied one at the place where the road turned at a sharp angle. The bearers swilled honeyed wine at a tavern, waiting for trade. Lena whistled, catching their attention. In no great hurry they drained their cups and ambled towards her brothel with the transport.

  'I'm going to the temple,' Lena yelled behind her to the whores.

  'Which one, Lena?'

  'None of your business.' She patted the contents of the little bag she carried and fired a parting shot. 'Wash all your damned holes in salty water while I'm gone, and try to stay away from the wine.'

  'Screw you.'

  She moved well away from the shopfront, not wanting the girls to hear the destination she gave to the litter-bearers. When she had said it, the bearers weren't bothered, merely naming their price. Lena felt deflated. 'Did you hear me?'

  'Like a bell,' said the leader.

  Dignified, she climbed into the litter.

  A new friend she had made in recent weeks had assured Lena that this temple offered exactly what she needed. But with the bearers' lack of surprise, Lena hoped she had not been lied to. Yet, considering again the arts that this friend, Martina, seemed to know, Lena felt sure the visit would prove profitable.

  She arranged herself comfortably in the transport for the trip across the city. A gust of wind blew the curtains aside just as the litter reached the Forum; Lena clung to her veil, not wanting anyone outside to recognise her. She didn't fear they'd guess her purpose, only that they'd laugh and point at her. Who was she, after all, a rotten old whore, to go around Rome in a litter? People would call her Cleopatra if they knew, or worse, the Augusta Livia.

  Flicking the curtains closed, Lena caught a glimpse of someone she knew would never laugh at her. She waved without thinking. Startled in the midst of an errand, I waved back. But my jaw had dropped. Lena drew the curtains shut then, but it occurred to her that I may not have recognised her at all. She was wearing a veil.

  It was gloomy beneath the trees as Lena paid the bearers and waited until they had gone, nervous of being observed. When she was quite sure she was alone, she took a long, uneasy look up the slimy, crooked steps and told herself she had no other option but to go inside. Skill and endeavour had failed her. She needed the help of the god to rebuild herself now.

  The scurry of vermin when she pushed open the door was unnerving, but Lena had encountered worse in brothels and bravely stepped inside. Having come so far, she was determined to go through with Martina's plan. She reached the plinth gingerly and took the hammer, nail and tablet from the bag. She held the lead in her hands and felt the surprising weight of it.

  ' May disaster strike my competitors worse than every disaster I've known,' she read. She chortled at the curse and then felt a twinge of fear that perhaps it wasn't brutal enough. Should she have defined the disaster? A ruinous fire? Or an outbreak of plague? She banished the thought. Losing whores beneath the avalanche was a disaster worse than any she could think of. To somehow top it with one greater still was a god's work, beyond mortal imagination. This was what she was here for, after all.

  With three swift blows of the hammer, Lena nailed the curse tablet to the plinth, where so many others already hung. She sighed at the sheer number of them. Would the god even notice hers? Looking up at the deity's great statue to beseech him, she was suddenly struck by how familiar the god's face was.

  A noise behind her made her start. 'Iphicles!'

  'Where did you obtain your veil from, Lena?' I had followed her all the way from the Forum.

  She was too shocked to answer me for a moment.

  'Your gossamer veil,' I said. 'Where did you get it, Lena?'

  She looked at me as if I was mad. 'I found it in the street. Someone must have lost it. It was too nice to throw away, so I took it.'

  I fell into thoughtful silence as Lena looked up at the statue again. 'Iphicles,' she said eventually.

  'You don't need to say it, Lena — I know.'

  'You know? But what do you know?'

  I pointed up at the god. 'Veiovis has my face, or I have his, whichever it is. I know, Lena, and I agree with you. The resemblance cannot be a coincidence.'

  Ahenobarbus crouched in the Suburan alley, the sounds of the teeming slums all around him an affront to his ears. The lusts, the laughter of the poor, their mundane talk, the snatches of their arguments — these echoes of ordinary lives were a mockery to him, condemned as he was to live in silence. Every sinew of his being longed for words, for the facility for speech, and every breath in his chest silently cursed the cruelty of gods that would waste such precious gifts upon beasts that held them in no value.

  He touched his torch to the oil-soaked rags. They began to smoke, delicately at first, thin, grey wisps floating to the windows above. Ahenobarbus, who had always loved fire, would punish the beasts for possessing what he was denied.

  Pale and feverish upon their bed, Nilla muttered her eternal questions from dry, cracked lips. 'How could the Emperor have allowed my mother and brothers to die?'

  Her lover pressed a sponge to her face. 'I have no answer — I do not know.'

  'How could he do it? Sejanus was gone. But the Emperor didn't save them. He let them starve.'

  'Ssh, now, my love. Hush.'

  'Why have I heard nothing from Capri? Nothing since my grandmother returned there. What has happened to her? What has happened to my sisters?'

  'Please, Nilla — I do not know. You must stop tormenting yourself like this.'

  'How can I, when I don't know what has silenced them? When I don't know what has happened to them?'

  'Please, try to sleep. You're ill.'

  'Why have I been told nothing?' she cried out. 'Why am I so worthless?'

  Tears slipped down his cheeks as he held her to keep her still.

  'Why am I so ignored, Burrus?' she sobbed. 'Why am I so alone?
'

  His world had receded to their bed. Like Nilla beside him, he no longer heard the lives lived by others. They were an island, the two of them, cut off from the world, which was why, when the old, roughened hands pulled at his clothes and tried to rouse him he barely sensed it. When the same hands tugged at his hair, he felt nothing. When the voice shouted and wept and cursed at him, it seemed to Burrus as though it came from a distance of miles. It was only when the old servant slapped hard at Nilla's face that Burrus was pulled from the spell.

  'Don't touch her.'

  'The Guards!' the old woman yelled at him. 'Wake up, boy — it's the Guards!' The words penetrated, but not their meaning.

  'The Guards — they're here!'

  'What guards? What do you mean?'

  He rejoined the world to the sound of fists pounding the door below.

  'The Praetorian Prefect!' the old woman shouted at him in terror. 'He is demanding we open the house in the name of the Emperor!'

  Burrus ran to the corridor as the battering ram reduced the street door to splinters. In the garden the smirking Albucilla thrilled that her rival's destruction was imminent. Wherever Ahenobarbus was, she only hoped he would return in time to see it.

  The alley fire took quickly, catching hold of the rubbish Ahenobarbus piled to feed its hunger. The flames spread surely upwards, licking at the windowsills of the insulae. A woman looked out of one of the windows and saw the peril. Ahenobarbus's hair shone as he masturbated before her in the glow. She screamed and pointed at him. Other beasts appeared from neighbouring windows and Ahenobarbus took to his feet. Men leaped from the windows to chase him.

  His heart pounding with excitement and terror, Ahenobarbus lurched from the arches of the Circus Maximus and up the long Steps of Cacus to ascend the Palatine.

  'Fire demon!' his pursuers screamed. 'His hair is on fire! Look at him — it's the demon!'

  The sky glowed with the cleansing blaze that consumed the Suburan slums.

  'He's the one who starts every fire in Rome! He wants to kill us all!'

  'Fire demon!'

  Ahenobarbus reached the summit, staggering in exhaustion across the flagstone square to the Temple of the Great Mother. He threw himself into the shadows of the great columns as the mob attained the crest behind him.

  'Find the demon with the burning hair!'

  They fanned out through the maze of the Palatine's streets, screaming to the gods for his head. Ahenobarbus laughed to himself, as he was safe.

  He stole his way in silence among the Concubia shadows, but when he came to the House of the Aemilii, his shock and rage at what he saw made him want to seek out the aged slave for a beating. She had carelessly left the street door open to thieves.

  But when Ahenobarbus crept to the threshold, he saw the truth: the door had been smashed from its pivots. His terror returned; the mob had identified him and taken revenge. Shaking with fear, yet perversely aroused by it, Ahenobarbus moved inside his ancestral home. The atrium was dark. There were all the signs of brutal entry, yet it had not been sacked. The wax mask of his father was in place, as was the shrine to the household gods.

  Ahenobarbus's eyes found his wife and her slave lover in the dark, huddled on the stairs like children. He was confounded. Was this forced entry the work of the mob at all? He signalled to the pair, but when they didn't seem to hear, he struck at the face of his wife's slave.

  Burrus looked up, dazed. 'Macro came with his men, domine.'

  Ahenobarbus didn't understand.

  'The Praetorians. I took up position on the stairs to defend,' Burrus said, 'but they had no interest in me — or in Nilla.'

  Ahenobarbus again struck the slave, but this time in bewilderment. Burrus didn't flinch. 'It was Albucilla, domine. They came for her. She was charged with immorality and taken away in chains.'

  The Kalends of June

  AD 35

  Twenty-five months later: a phoenix is sighted on the Nile, occasioning heated discussion among Egyptians regarding its significance

  The Aemilii sisters sat huddled before the furnace in the kitchens, shivering despite the summer heat.

  'Condemned to exile,' Domitia sobbed. 'No shoes, no money, just pushed out the gates and told to leave Rome. It's such a terrible fate.'

  'It's so cruel,' Lepida nodded, wiping her eyes. 'And after being so long imprisoned.'

  'For "immorality".' Domitia shook her head with dismay. 'What a travesty when the Emperor's own immorality offends every god.'

  'Ssh, Domitia,' the elder sister warned, fearful of who might be listening.

  'Nilla never leaves that room,' Domitia scoffed, 'and even if she did she'd hear nothing of what we say. She's lost her mind. She's gone mad, locked away up there with that brute of a slave. It's Albucilla who should have been our poor brother's bride, not that horrid Claudian.'

  'I agree,' said Lepida. 'If Albucilla and Ahenobarbus had been allowed to marry, none of this would have happened — none of it. But still,' she added in dismay, 'I believed there was something of mother's promise in it — that it would see the blessing of Veiovis. I truly believed it.'

  Their brother in their thoughts again, the women returned to weeping.

  'What will become of him?' cried Domitia. 'Albucilla loved him so, she truly did. She knew how to talk to him. She understood everything he tried to say. How will he ever find another woman like Albucilla?'

  'He's been condemned to loneliness by this,' Lepida sobbed. 'It's just as bad as being exiled.'

  They sobbed in pity for several moments more, then were startled by footsteps at the door.

  'I have my uncle, Mama.' Lepida's little daughter, Messalina, led the grieving Ahenobarbus into the kitchen.

  'Messalina, you're a good girl,' said Lepida, drying her eyes and getting up to kiss her child.

  'He needs to eat,' said Messalina. 'I made him come.'

  'What a thoughtful girl you are,' said Domitia, patting her sister's child. The women ushered Ahenobarbus to a place by the furnace, stoking the flames for him.

  'He always liked it here as a boy,' Lepida whispered to her daughter. 'It comforted him when he was sad at not being able to speak. You did well to think of it.'

  Messalina beamed and accepted the honeyed bread her mother passed her before a plate was given to Ahenobarbus. He took the food without eating it.

  'Why have no charges been laid against my uncle?' Messalina asked, her mouth full of bread.

  'Child!' Lepida cried.

  'Well, it is very strange. For Albucilla to have been immoral, didn't she need my uncle to be immoral with?'

  'Messalina, you wicked girl!' her mother admonished her. 'Give me back that honeyed bread — you shan't be eating a crumb while you say such things.'

  'Mama!'

  'Give it.'

  'I'm hungry,' Messalina wailed, clutching the bread in her fist.

  Lepida went to slap it from her but Ahenobarbus suddenly stood. He moved to where Messalina cowered and stooped to the girl, hugging her to his chest. There were tears in his eyes as he looked back to his sisters.

  'My uncle isn't upset with me,' said Messalina, quietly.

  Lepida accepted this.

  'It is right to ask what she asks, Lepida,' said the younger sister. 'Albucilla has been charged and condemned but our brother has escaped it. If they wanted to destroy him, they would have. Instead he is ignored.' She looked to Ahenobarbus. 'I believe it is all intended as a message to you, brother, just like my forced union with Drusus was, and your own with Nilla.'

  Ahenobarbus released Messalina from the hug. He nodded in agreement.

  'A message of what?' said Lepida.

  Domitia pondered it. 'It's a warning.'

  'This makes no sense.'

  'It makes perfect sense.' Domitia believed she now understood everything. 'Ahenobarbus is a threat. Nilla has the blood of Augustus in her veins. If our brother were an ambitious man, he could use his marriage to Nilla to attract a following around him, an entourag
e. He could even fight for the throne in Nilla's name.'

  'But our brother would never risk such things. He's a modest man!'

  Domitia agreed. 'And they know it, the Claudians. But Albucilla's ruin was a warning to our brother that they will destroy him if he chooses to forget his modesty.'

  Lepida looked to their brother and saw that he, too, believed this theory to be true. 'Yet more reason to hate that little bitch,' she said.

  While her mother and aunt were focused on her mute uncle, Messalina slipped away from the kitchens, munching her bread. She padded up the corridor that took her back to the grand old house's atrium. She stood for while, contemplating its gloomy corners, glad she was only a visitor and not a resident. The house spooked her. After a time, she peeked in the entrance hall.

  'Hello,' I said.

  Messalina jumped. 'Who are you?'

  'I am only a slave.'

  I had to cover a smile as the child at once grew imperious. 'What do you want here, slave?'

  'Nothing from you,' I replied. 'I am here to see the mistress of the house.'

  The girl curled her lip. 'You mean horrid Nilla?'

  I tut-tutted. 'What a disrespectful child.'

  'She brings misfortune on my family. I think she's a witch.'

  'If you ever met an actual witch, you'd know at once that the Lady Nilla is not one.'

  Messalina glared at me. 'Do you know who I am, slave?'

  'Of course I do. You are the rarest of birds.'

  The girl was taken aback. 'How — how do you know about that name?'

  'I know about many things,' I replied enigmatically, enjoying how much I was maddening her. 'Have they told you what it means?'

  'Of course they have.'

  She was lying, which pleased me. She knew the phrase but little else. 'So, they've told you nothing of Fate?'

  The child narrowed her eyes. 'They told me I must be very nice to Claudius,' she whispered.

  'Yes?'

  'He's so horrible and crippled,' Messalina said. 'He smells, too, and he drools.'

  'Oh dear.'