The snake tapped the sheets of paper in front of him. "There's no such thing as coincidence. It's all here in his chart."
"How interesting! How about his future, what do the stars say about that?"
Ptolemy looked at me. "As you would expect, domina, they show that he's in mortal peril. A painful death in an open place. It looks like he's about to be crucified."
For what dark reason had Tigellinus given my forged horoscope to Poppaea? Was it an attempt to ingratiate himself by allowing her to toy with a fate she thought was mine?
Poppaea tilted her head to one side, a pretty gesture. An ear decorated with pearls appeared from under her lush amber hair. "An awful death," she lisped. "Poor Epaphroditus! Is that all he has to look forward to?"
"Perhaps not, domina," said Ptolemy. "Epaphroditus has an unusual horoscope. In many respects it’s most fortunate. Because his Moon is square his Venus, it predicts great riches. Because his Jupiter is placed in his House of Friends and is in harmony with both his Mars and his Venus, he will achieve public greatness. However his Saturn is precisely on his ascendant by night which promises that he will be worn out by hard labor.”
Poppaea laughed, a thrilling sound. “Perhaps then it’s not the cross for him after all. Perhaps it’s the salt mines!”
The astrologer’s eyes dropped to the chart. “Perhaps, domina, if it were not for the Moon.”
Poppaea fluttered her eyelids. “The Moon? A woman?”
“His chart is ruled by the Moon which is conjunct his Part of Fortune in his House of Power. A Moon which is exalted in Taurus the Bull, the sign of Venus and therefore of Rome, a Venus which is precisely square his Moon. Epaphroditus will achieve great power through obedience to a woman. That is why Agrippina chose him."
Poppaea’s question sounded more like a tease. “What was that about Sirius and why Nero believes Epaphroditus is destined to help him start something quite new?”
“If he knows that domina it will give away the day, the hour, the minute of his birth. He could have his horoscope cast.”
Poppaea tilted her head so that a curly blonde lock caressed her creamy shoulder. “Yes, I suppose we’d better keep that a secret,” she said with a pout. “It’s better not to have the servants rummaging around in the future.” She closed her eyes, swayed her head from side-to-side as she followed the rhythm of the music. When her lids opened her eyes were fixed on an object above and behind me. I turned my head. She was staring at a statue of Nero that was so life-like that I thought the man himself had slipped into the room.
Poppaea teased no longer. "Epaphroditus, you've heard Nero talk about becoming a performer. What do you think of the idea?"
The question, her suddenly amiable tone, caught me off guard. I knew what Poppaea wanted to hear, I'd heard it from behind the palace hedge the night Agrippina had called her a traitor.
So I knew I could speak my mind. "Domina I'm convinced that the emperor's conception of musical war is the greatest idea of our age."
Her fair cheeks colored. "Yes! Yes so do I! Epaphroditus, will you help me make his dream reality?"
"Of course but what can I possibly do? I'm only a -"
She cut me short. "You know that there are some very influential people who are critical of Nero's musical ambitions. Agrippina is no longer one of them but her viewpoint survives in the persons of his tutors, the Praetorian Prefect Burrus and the philosopher Seneca, men who want to keep the strings firmly attached to their puppet. What they most fear, and the fear is justified, is that if Nero attempts to push through his musical revolution there will be a conservative backlash led by his wife Octavia's Claudian faction in which the most prominent figures are Rubellius Plautus and Faustus Cornelius Sulla."
I knew who these men were. Rubellius Plautus, great-grandson of Tiberius, was the man Agrippina had been courting at the time of her death. Sulla, heir to a famous name, was the half brother of Messalina and the husband of Claudia, Claudius's daughter by a previous marriage. Persistent rumors that there was a faction which wanted to place Sulla on the throne had forced Nero to confine him to his estates in Gaul.
Poppaea's eyes were blue lakes as vast as the sea. Her words were the whisper of a lover meant to carry no further than the breadth of a pillow. "Epaphroditus, Ptolemy has seen it in your stars. You'll help Nero take command of the stage by destroying those who stand in his way."
This time she let me finish my sentence. "But I'm only a note taker!"
"No you're not, the world's most powerful man trusts you like he does no one else. When we return to Rome you'll be told where to find a diviner named Thallus, an old man with white hair, remember the description in case you're asked. You'll tell Nero that a dream commanded you to consult Thallus and that he foretold something about your future, something that was astonishingly accurate. His curiosity can be relied upon."
I could feel myself being swept away by the swift current of the intrigue. "What if the emperor asks to see this diviner in person?" I asked.
"He lives in the Subura. You'll take a litter and fetch him."
There was something about the way she said "litter" that made me repeat it.
She was smiling now. "Yes, a litter. Unfortunately he can't walk. A client had his legs broken when he misread a liver."
I glanced at Ptolemy to see how he liked the word I was about to use but he pretended to be absorbed in my chart. I said, "But domina, if he's a charlatan how -"
"He'll be no more than a mouthpiece. Do I have your pledge?"
I couldn't say no so I didn't.
"Good. Tomorrow night you'll have the first taste of my patronage. Now go to Tigellinus, he wants to hear all about your diviner."
There was a hint of his warm, brilliant smile but Tigellinus's velvet eyes were cold as frost. "Poppaea sends word that you've had a dream."
The way he said that told me he didn't want to be contradicted. "Yes dominus, in Rome, just before we left to come here. A nightmare in which I was being forced to kill the emperor. It worried me so I consulted a diviner. He read a liver, told me that the answer to my question was no, I wouldn't kill my master."
"What was the diviner's name?"
"Thallus."
"What does he look like?"
"Old, white hair, crippled."
"Where did you consult him?"
"In the Subura."
A long pause. "Very well. Come with me, Nero will want to hear all about him."
Nero reclined on the balcony where I was sent to kill him. He was watching the full Moon rising over Vesuvius as he plucked at the strings of his kithara. Eventually he noticed me standing next to Tigellinus.
He sounded tired and apprehensive but his eyes were bright. "Ah Epaphroditus, my lucky charm. Not a bad actor, either. Your performance last night, I've never seen anything done better. That last touch of pathos when you dropped the dagger and fell sobbing to your knees. Pure theater."
In spite of Nero's mockery, I smiled. It was pleasant to be reminded of my victory over astrology.
"Augustus," Tigellinus said, "Epaphroditus had a prophetic dream about last night's events. The dream was correctly interpreted by a diviner. Quite uncanny really. I thought you might be interested."
Nero continued strumming the strange, unsettling melody. "My latest composition, do you like it? Each chord is proportional to the distance of one of the seven planets from the earth, the voices of the planets singing the songs of Fate, the music of the spheres. Do you year them? Perhaps not, I've got a lot more work to do. Yes of course I'm interested in your dream, Epaphroditus. Mind if I accompany you as you tell it?"
Nero applauded Thallus's prediction with a triumphant flurry of chords. "How fascinating! Now that does prove a very important point, that although Fate is one there are many different ways of unveiling its secrets. Claudius swore by the liver-readers but I always assumed that was because he was in love with the Etruscans. What's your prognosticator's name?"
"Thallus."
N
ero went back to plucking that succession of unsettling chords. "Bring him to me when we return to Rome."
As soon as we were out of earshot of the Germans guarding Nero's door Tigellinus said, "Something important has come up in Alexandria, a minor crisis. Euodus leaves by boat at dusk to take care of it for me. His boat sails from Puteoli. He's asked permission for you to walk with him, alone."
The slow pace Euodus set should have alerted me, one pace per second, sixty paces per minute: the march of time. Then there was the grim set of his jaw and the way his eyes remained fixed on something far ahead of us, an invisible star perhaps already rising in the east. There was a ship to catch and certainly more than enough to reminisce about so why the funereal pace and the wall of silence? In the name of the all the gods of Fate, why had he asked for my company if he didn't want to talk?
Just as once before, outside the walls of Alexandria, I made conversation. "What about your luggage?" I asked. "Has that gone on ahead?"
It seemed that he wasn't going to answer but eventually he did, gruffly, almost inaudibly. "I don't need luggage where I'm going."
"What do you mean?"
"Nero's horoscope. Do you suppose anyone who saw that thing would be allowed to live?"
A dreadful numbness spread from my heart to my limbs as if I'd been bitten by an adder. "Is that why I'm here, to die with you?"
My discomfit resurrected the ghost of Euodus's mocking smile. "Oh, don't worry, you'll be safe as long as Tigellinus needs you and he'll continue to need you so long as Nero believes that you’re fated to help him achieve his destiny."
"But Tigellinus knows I’m an imposter!”
“But Nero doesn’t."
“He knew his mother worked out that I was destined to kill him.”
“Ah, but you didn't, did you? Balbillus has re-examined your stars. He's told Nero that Agrippina made a mistake with her astrology, that she was attempting to force the hand of Fate."
I tried not to show how relieved I was. "But what about you? How can you take it so calmly, the way he rewards you?"
"Because he's doing exactly what I would do."
"Euodus, you're not a sacrificial bullock, if you're convinced he's about to kill you, get off the road, make your way to Naples, take a ship to Antioch. Go on to Persia, he can't reach you there."
Euodus's face tilted upward. "Haven't you seen them? They've been circling directly above us since we left Baiae."
I followed his line of sight. There was a flock of vultures high above us. "That means nothing," I said, "they're common here, they're waiting for the catch to be gutted. Don't let coincidence paralyze your will."
Euodus laughed, a hollow sound. "Coincidence! Count them. Ten altogether, one for each year since I brought you to Rome."
It was then that the arrows struck him, three through the chest and one through the neck. I hit the ground before he did. When there were no more arrows I raised myself onto my elbows.
Euodus's breathing was labored and his voice faint but he was already beyond pain. "You see, ten years exactly."
I found Tigellinus at the stables. He made me wait until he'd finished supervising the shoeing of a new horse. "Euodus is dead," I said, "shot down in the road like a dog."
Tigellinus turned on me the face of a man wronged. "He betrayed me. Did he tell you that? Some very sensitive documents fell into his hands. He tried to sell them to Poppaea behind my back. From now on report directly to me. "
He didn’t show it but he must have seen the loathing in my eyes.
The first evening of our return to Rome in June she came to me, my gift from Poppaea. She was perhaps seventeen, slender with pale skin and hair as black as a raven’s wing. Her eyes were large and expressive, but there was also something guarded about them. Her lips were generous but she didn’t smile. “My name is Rachel,” she said in a calm, pleasing voice. “My body is your gift from Poppaea.”
I raked the exquisite creature with my eyes, felt an odd sense of shame when she kept hers fixed on mine. “Only your body?” I asked.
There was a sharp edge to her tongue I found arousing. “Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s certainly a start.” I clapped my hands. A slave hurried in. I had my own personal retainers now and sumptuous quarters. “Wine.”
Rachel sat with me on a couch, sipping her Falernian. She was near enough for me to touch her but something prevented me from doing so. “Where are you from?” I asked.
“Jerusalem. My parents were enslaved by Pontius Pilate.”
“Why?”
She shrugged her shoulders, a slight movement. For the first time she looked away. “An uprising.”
“I knew someone from Judea once,” I said, making conversation. Although I desired her body that wasn’t all I wanted. “His name was Mark. Mark the Lion.”
Her eyes darted back to mine, widened. For an instant she seemed to turn to marble. “What did Poppaea tell you about me?”
“Actually, nothing at all,” I said. “What did she tell you about me?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know.”
“Which is?”
“What everyone knows. People talk about you. Some think you’re lucky. Others think you’re cursed.”
“And you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Let’s pretend it does.”
“You don’t need to pretend with me. I’m a slave.”
I laughed. “But so am I!”
“Then you don’t have to pretend with me either. Where did you meet Mark?”
“In Alexandria. You know why Agrippina had me brought here?”
“Of course,” she said. “Because of your stars. Everyone knows the story.”
“It was then. The day before I sailed. I was trying to run away. Mark said something odd. He said I was chosen.”
It was like the Sun bursting through the clouds, the expression of joy that glowed from her face. “Chosen? He said you were chosen?”
I was amused by her transformation. “Yes. Although he didn’t say what for.”
“It can only be for one thing, the only thing that matters.”
“Which is?”
“If you don’t know I can’t tell you.”
“But if I did know you would?” I teased her. “That makes no sense at all. You weren’t sent to watch me, were you?”
The Sun closed back over the clouds. “Watch you? Watch you do what?”
I was on my second glass which made me reckless. “Ever since I was quite young, twelve, thirteen perhaps, I’ve been convinced that there’s always someone watching me. I’m told it’s some kind of malady.”
Instead of responding she sipped her wine tentatively as if the dark red liquid was shaping her words for her. “There is always someone. If you’re chosen.”
“Are you chosen too?”
She looked at me reproachfully, as if I was treading on dangerous ground. “All of us who believe are chosen.”
“Now I understand! You’re a Christian, aren’t you? And so were your parents. Did they actually meet this Christ?”
“In the spirit only. That’s how we all meet him. Poppaea favors our religion. That’s why she bought me.”
“She a Christian? Surely not!”
“No, not exactly. She likes the idea of one God. Also the idea of the Christ, the savior.”
I laughed. “But she’s convinced Nero is the Christ!”
Rachel’s face darkened. “He’s the opposite. He’s the Antichrist.”
I put my hand on her leg. Her flesh was soft but firm. She didn’t draw away from me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nero stands for everything Christ is not. He stands for the pleasures of this world, not of the next.”
“What’s wrong with having pleasure in this world?”
“It corrupts the soul. Only uncorrupted souls, or those who have been purified, can enter the next.”
“Sounds Egyptian to me.”
“The ghost of the
truth has been spoken by many tongues. Soon truth will be here in the flesh.”
“When Christ returns?”
The glow returned to her cheeks. “So you know!”
“I told you, I’ve met Mark. I’ve heard him interpret for Peter. Now I hear he’s here in Rome, or at least he was. Is he back?”
She didn’t answer. Instead she emptied her cup and stared at me with her dark, wide eyes.
I asked, "What's the matter?"
"I'm waiting for you to command me."
"Command you? What are you talking about?"
"My instructions are to obey your commands."
"What a peculiar way to put it! Has this something to do with Christ?"
"He commands us to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. My body is yours. Take it."
“Render unto Caesar.” That’s what Phocion had said when he told me to obey the Copy Master without question. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear from her. "If you put it like that I have no requirements, not this evening, anyway."
She surprised me, as she got up to leave, by looking disappointed.
A Heavenly Warning
June 59 – October 13, 60 A.D.
The next morning Nero asked me to repeat my story about the diviner. He listened attentively, his eyes searching my face as I spoke. I must have lied well because he nodded repeatedly. After I'd finished he was silent for several minutes, his eyes closed, his toe tapping to the music being played by the orchestra in the garden below.
He said, "It came to me on the journey up from Baiae, when everyone was applauding me for surviving mother's plot. It really is most unfortunate that the ordinary Roman people never have a chance to go down there, to experience its festival atmosphere. It would uplift, them, don’t you think, to a new level.”
The prospect of the vulgar Roman mob swamping the elegant seafront of Baiae with its villas and pleasure gardens and floating feasts appalled me. “Caesar, surely you don’t mean…”
“Of course I don’t. We can’t take Rome to Baiae, but we can take Baiae to Rome.”
His face was bright with animation but I had no idea what he was talking about. “Caesar?”
The Nero Prediction Page 14