Agrippina cringed at the tone of his words. “Claudius, do my ears deceive me? You’re the wounded one. Didn’t I see Messalina in the bed of another man just an hour ago? She’s tried to make a fool of the Emperor of Rome! You should be signing her death warrant right now. She, above all, should receive full payment for her adultery.”
They stood before the curtained, but unguarded, door to the emperor’s chamber. Claudius sighed and touched the smooth cheek of his niece.
“Love can make matters so difficult. But you’re right, of course, my dear. Her death warrant will be the first matter I attend to in the morning. But with her, a part of me will die as well.”
Agrippina kissed her uncle to hide her smile of triumph. He parted the curtain as their embrace was broken. Agrippina gasped. There in the emperor’s bed lay the sleeping Messalina, her hair a shining halo on the silken pillow, her gently heaving breasts plainly visible through the cobweb material of her shift.
At the sound of her name, shouted joyfully from her husband’s lips, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open.
“Claudius, my dearest, where have you been? Your little bird has waited hours in the empty nest. I must have dropped off to sleep.” Then, stretching out her arms to him, she purred. “Come. Join me, won’t you?”
Claudius turned a beaming countenance on Agrippina.
“It’s all been a terrible mistake, you see. In the darkness of the fisherman’s cottage, you must have mistaken his mistress for Messalina, who was here all the time waiting for me. What a trying night it’s been for all of us. But this will make up for everything. Good night, Agrippina.”
Agrippina saw that it would be useless to argue. To be sure, there was a fisherman’s mistress in the cottage. But she and the empress were one and the same. For once Agrippina had underestimated her adversary. She let the curtain drop, turned, and left.
Claudius tore off his tunic and fell into the arms of Messalina. As he covered her white face, throat and breasts with kisses, he tasted blood. He pulled away her shift and brought the lamp closer. A dark line traveled her translucent skin from neck to belly.
“How did you hurt yourself, my dearest? Or has someone done this to you? I’ll have the felon killed!”
She laughed and pulled his head to her breasts again.
“Then I’m afraid you’ll be without an empress. I made the mark myself. The pin on my gown snagged my flesh and in anger I ripped it off, inflicting more injury on myself.”
“But why didn’t your handmaiden help you undress?”
“That was the reason for my anger,” Messalina said smoothly. “That thieving girl Nike ran away and took my jewels with her.”
“You’ll have more jewels, my precious.”
Claudius went back to the loving exploration of Messalina’s wondrous body.
The next morning Messalina announced that she had decided to visit her mother, Domitia Lepida, at her villa in the Horti Luculliani on the Pincian Hill north of Rome. Agrippina took satisfaction in the realization that this trip was a measure of desperation on Messalina’s part. She and her mother had been estranged for several years.
But Messalina and Agrippina obviously could not share the same roof after the events of the past night. And Agrippina made it plain that she intended to take advantage of the emperor’s hospitality as long as he offered it, whether Messalina approved or not.
The retinue of litters, guards and slaves, along with Messalina and the emperor’s two children, left before the heat of the day.
Claudius beamed as he waved them away, calling out, “I’ll be back in Rome within the week. Wait for me at your mother’s villa.”
Agrippina knew, now more than ever before, that her work for the next few days was cut out for her. This new affection between the emperor and his wife proved most disturbing. He plainly believed that Messalina was as pure as a Vestal Virgin. Was the man blind as well as deaf? What spell had Messalina wound about him in the waning hours before dawn? Surely some magic potion had been used to bring about such a transformation in their relationship.
Nero stood in the shadows of the atrium and watched with detached interest as the caravan moved away from the villa. So, his mother had failed for once. What would her next move be? The empress was out of her range for the time being.
A slight noise from behind him made him turn. The shadow of a girl flitted behind one of the columns. He advanced with curiosity. Reaching out, he caught a soft arm and pulled its owner from her hiding place. It was Acte.
“Why were you spying on me, girl?”
Annoyed by his imperious tone, she said, “My name is Acte, or have you forgotten so soon, Nero?”
Her brazen attitude aroused Nero anew.
“Do you always lurk about peeking at people?”
His voice sounded angry even to his own ears. But why? He had longed to see her again.
Lowering her head, she answered almost inaudibly, “I wasn’t spying. I only wanted to see my mistress one last time. We’ve never been apart before.”
Nero watched a single tear run down her cheek as he asked, “Your mistress? Do you mean the empress?”
“No, I mean Octavia. I feel lost without her, and no one knows when we’ll be together again.”
Nero scowled at the tearful wisp of a girl as he asked sarcastically, “So, you prefer the company of girls to men?”
Her tears ceased as her dark skin flamed in anger.
“That wasn’t what I meant! It’s just that Octavia and I have been raised together. She’s like a sister to me.” Acte caught her breath at the secret she had almost divulged, then went on. “I don’t understand why I’ve been left behind this time. I’m her personal handmaiden. I should go with her to see to her needs.”
Holding her arms just below the shoulders, Nero forced her back against the marble column. Her warm breath on his face aroused something—some feeling in his deepest parts—that he’d never experienced before.
The touch of Nero’s hands sent a tingling sensation through Acte’s body. She closed her eyes for a moment and remembered when he’d held her captive in the garden. Recalling the sight of her own bare breasts and his lips on them, she felt a warmth flooding through her.
Nero stared at his captive. She didn’t resist him as she had in the garden. It seemed to him that she felt something, too, and wanted his nearness. But he didn’t know what to do to please her. Indeed, why should he try to please her—a common slave girl?
But staring into her almond eyes, smelling the scent of lemons in her midnight hair, he knew he wanted something from her. And at the same time he wanted to give her something she could cherish.
Letting go of one of her arms to free his hand, he cupped her cheek and felt it cool against his hot, damp palm. Her naturally rose-colored lips parted slightly as a sigh escaped her. He watched as a delicate pink tongue appeared to moisten those lips. Her mouth tilted gently up toward his.
Panic set in. What was he supposed to do? His heart was pounding as if he’d run a race. What was happening to him?
His hand, with a life of its own, moved from Acte’s cheek to the throbbing pulse at her throat. Again a sigh. He trembled. His head bent to taste her lips. She wanted his kiss, he could tell. Closer and closer they came until they breathed the same air.
“Nero!”
His name sounded like the echoing of a brass gong, shattering the spell. Startled, he released Acte’s arm, and she escaped from him.
Turning, he saw Agrippina in front of him with the emperor by her side.
There was a warning tone in her question. “Nero, what were you doing with that slave girl?”
He hung his head in confusion as he answered truthfully, “I don’t know, Mater. Nothing.”
The emperor interceded on behalf of the boy. “Don’t scold the lad so, Agrippina. He’s done no harm. He is at the age when the blood of youth begins to boil. Let him have his pick of the slave girls for whatever p
leasure he desires—any except Acte.”
And then they were gone, leaving Nero more bewildered than ever. Why “any except Acte”? Acte was the only one he wanted.
As Acte hid behind another column, her tears flowed again in frustration. Would it always be like this? Wouldn’t the emperor ever understand that she had feelings and longings, too? Sophia had been just her age when the emperor first loved her. Why would he deny her the same pleasure he’d given her mother?
Letting out a low sob, she raced to the garden and the place where she had first felt Nero’s touch. There she threw herself on the grass to cry.
Three
To Nero it seemed that everyone avoided him for the next few days. Though he wasn’t fond of either Britannicus, who suffered fits and wasn’t allowed to be adventurous like Nero, or the aloof Octavia, they were at least companions near his own age. Now he was alone except for Dorph. He would have preferred the company of Acte, but she spent all of her time in the kitchen or tending Iron Face. Nero never had a moment alone with her, though her eyes clearly spoke of her desires.
He sighed as he roamed the halls of the villa. What diversion could he find to keep him occupied for the day? Hearing voices, he hurried down the corridor. Silently he crept to the door to eavesdrop, one of his favorite pastimes.
He recognized his mother’s concerned voice.
“These men are most reliable, I assure you, uncle. And the prophecy has been given to them by the oracle. Are you sure you feel quite well? You look a bit weary this morning.
Nero couldn’t see the emperor, but he heard him groan. “Oh, my dear Agrippina, wouldn’t you feel weary, too, if your death within the year had been foretold?”
Nero’s interest perked. Drawing closer to the doorway, he pressed himself against the wall so he wouldn’t miss a word.
“But, uncle, how can we know for certain that you’re the one the fates hunger for?”
Another weary groan, then Claudius replied, “I am Messalina’s husband! The oracle stated that her husband would be dead within the year. You yourself just said that the word of my three freedmen, Narcissus, Pallas and Callistus, shouldn’t be questioned. So I must accept my fate.”
Agrippina’s voice came now, teasing—taunting. “Ah, but who was it that held me on his knee not so many years ago and told me that the fates could be cheated just as you taught me to cheat at dice? And the lesson was well taken. Didn’t I win everything that belonged to my sisters, brothers and cousins?”
The emperor’s weak laugh rose into a loud guffaw.
“Ah, my baby, my pet, you were so quick to learn. Yes, I remember well! But what has that to do with my present predicament? We’re not talking about a dice game here—this is my life!”
Nero could no longer restrain his curiosity. He peered around the door to see his mother sitting on the knee of her Uncle Claudius as she had when she was a child. Her arms wound around his neck as he kissed her cheek with a wet smack.
She returned his kiss before she spoke. “Listen carefully, dear uncle. What if you weren’t the husband of Messalina?”
Claudius pulled away from his niece in surprise. “But I am! Hasn’t she given me two children to show for the marriage?”
Agrippina beamed at her uncle and spoke in the tone of a conspirator. “That’s true, for the present. But what if—? What if—?” She tossed her head with pleasure while he hung on her words. “What if you secretly signed the required documents handing her over to another as his wife for a year? Don’t you see, uncle? It’s all perfectly legal and proper. Messalina will never know that when she comes to your bed, it’s as an adulteress. You’d still have her, but at the same time deny her real husband the pleasure of ever knowing she’s his wife for the year he has left to live. And, oh, at the end of the year think of the grand joke of telling Messalina what you’ve done when you remarry her!”
The emperor’s grating laughter went on and on until Nero covered his ears to shut out the awful noise.
“Agrippina, my pet, you are priceless! I must choose my wife’s husband well. I wouldn’t want the curse to fall upon a good friend. Do you have any ideas, my dear?”
Agrippina feigned a frown as if in thought. Nero guessed who his mother’s choice would be. She had wanted him for her lover, but this foolish young man had sought the empress’s bed instead, to his mother’s undying fury. Nero learned much through his eavesdropping.
“I know just the one, uncle. Though I’ve been kept from society lately because of my state of mourning, I have not missed this moon-eyed youth who follows the empress around. He’s from an aristocratic family and will soon be raised to consular rank, I understand, but you, as emperor, should punish him for his blatant lust for your empress. And think what a double joke it will be! He follows her around like the mongrels of Rome pant after a bitch in heat. For a year, or part of it, he’d legally be her husband and never know that her arms were open to him.”
Claudius slammed his fist on a table. “By all the gods, you don’t need to tell me his name! I know the one. Gaius Silius! I do despise the man! So be it. He’ll have her until his death and never have her at all.”
Nero peered around the door again to see the two locked in a triumphant embrace. Though he shared their pleasure in the evil plot, it always pained him to see his mother in the arms of a man.
Acte, though she longed to be with Nero, took her orders from the emperor. Her lot fell to tending Iron Face, and seeing to his every need. She of all the slaves at the villa did not fear the gladiator, and Iron Face asked for her especially. Since Claudius wished to have his warrior ready for the upcoming games, no demand from Iron Face went unanswered. Through the long hours she spent with him, Acte came to know Sergio Maximus as a man of kindness and honor as well as strength.
On his final day at the villa and his first day out of bed, Sergio and Acte strolled the shore together, breathing in the refreshing tang of the salt air and watching the sun dance on the waves of the bay.
They walked side by side in silence for a long while, Acte hurrying to keep up with Sergio’s giant strides.
At length he spoke. “I’ll miss you, you know.”
Seemingly embarrassed by his own confession, he picked up a smooth stone from the sand and sent it skipping and splashing across the shimmering waves.
Acte warmed to his words. “And I’ll miss you, Sergio, although I must admit you’ve been a difficult patient at times. Do try to stay out of the clutches of lions from now on. You’ve run me to a frazzle these past days.”
Her laughing tone put the gladiator at ease once more. Taking her hand in his, he led her to a sun-bathed rock, where she sat down and he sprawled his great frame beside her. Lifting her chin in his hand, he stared deeply into her eyes. Acte didn’t pull away as he bent to touch her lips tenderly with his own.
Still beholding her he whispered, “I’ve longed to kiss you since the first day I saw you. You’re so different from any woman I’ve ever known.” Then, lightening his tone, he added, “You’re very much like my lion actually—you claw at my most vital parts. You make me feel as if I’m in the arena naked, stripped of all weapons and even my dreaded Iron Face—at the mercy of a hundred warriors armed with short swords, clubs, chains, nets and tridents. I’m not sure I like this defenseless feeling, but at the same time it fills my heart with light.”
Acte shifted her eyes from his face down to his muscled thigh where the scars of his recent battle were even now losing their angry redness. Without thinking, she touched the wounds she had helped to heal. He winced, but not from pain.
“You’ve mended well.”
Removing her hand from the sensitive area, he placed it over his heart as he spoke. “Because of your skill and constant care. The physician said he couldn’t have done a better job. You’re a wonder, Acte.”
Withdrawing her hand from his, Acte tried to divert the conversation. “Tell me of your life as a gladiator in the arena. I�
�ve never been allowed to attend the games.”
All the softness left Sergio’s face and his jaw became rigid. “The arena isn’t the glamorous place you might imagine. Each time I enter for the battle I wonder if I’ll be the one picked by the gods to get the thumbs down from the bloodthirsty throngs. I try to pack enough living into my hours or days before the next combat so that if it should be my last, I won’t have missed too much.” He paused and laughed bitterly. “The patrician ladies vie for my attentions as if I were some prize stallion put out for stud. Then while their fat husbands bed their pretty boys, the ladies shower me with extravagant gifts and words of pretended love.” Turning suddenly, Sergio took Acte’s sun-warmed cheeks between his hands and gazed at her fiercely. “Don’t ever pretend to love me, Acte. Though I’d give the world to hear the words from your sweet lips, never speak them to me unless you mean them.”
Feeling her heart racing, Acte tried to turn her face from his. She couldn’t speak what she wasn’t sure she truly felt. It would be too cruel.
Instead, she smiled at him and spoke above the whisper of the waves. “Sergio, let’s always be as good friends as we are this minute.”
She held her breath as she waited for his reaction. Would he be angry, hurt, annoyed with her?
After a moment of heavy silence he laughed aloud and brushed her lips with his once more.
“You’re right, little one. We are good friends, and I’ll cherish that until the day you offer me more. But remember, my dearest child, that the great Iron Face holds a place vacant in his heart waiting to be filled by the love of a dark-haired beauty whose lips are like the ambrosia of the gods.”
Scooping her up in his arms, Sergio raced laughing with Acte down the beach, sending a flock of frightened sea birds scolding into the sapphire heavens.
Late that night Acte tiptoed into Sergio’s room to say goodbye before he left for his next arena, but he lay fast asleep. She stood for several moments memorizing the strong features before her—the massive head covered with black curls, the noble face of an aristocrat, the heaving rise and fall of his massive chest. Would this be her last sight of him? Would the next battle claim him? She prayed not.
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