Nest of Vipers

Nest of Vipers Page 45

by Luke Devenish

  ‘Do I shock you?’

  ‘You disgust me.’

  Livia tittered. ‘All my life I have schemed, believing it my destiny to be the mother of four great kings, Nilla, and all my life I was wrong. The kings will not be great in any way, and it is not in them that my destiny lies. It is in you, Nilla. You are my true destiny and my legacy, too.’

  If she expected awe or even gratitude, she didn’t get it. The look Nilla gave her was angry and contemptuous. ‘What legacy? Ruined lives? Murdered innocents? You killed anyone who might stop you.’

  Livia didn’t disagree. ‘Fate demands such measures in order to take us where we must be – to take you, Nilla, just as it has taken me. The men of Rome will believe there is a man in power – Little Boots at first, and then the next two kings – but the women of Rome will guess the truth. The kings are puppets. It is a queen who will rule. And that queen is you.’

  Nilla spat in her great-grandmother’s face. ‘I reject it.’

  About to step into his litter, Claudius saw this and went white. He hid himself inside.

  ‘I want nothing of what you schemed your life away for,’ Nilla said. ‘I despise everything about it.’

  Livia shrugged and smiled, letting the spit drip from her cheek. ‘You will want it in time,’ she said. Her own litter had arrived. ‘You will want what I have wanted – and desperately. And you will gain it, too, Nilla. You will become me.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Nilla hissed. ‘I will never be anything like you. You are evil.’

  But Livia only chuckled as she stepped into her transport. I caught the look on her face for a moment as she adjusted herself, and it was clear she was tired. I tucked her up against the cold.

  ‘To the Capena Gate, domina?’ I whispered.

  ‘Good gods, no. With all those stinking crowds? Little Boots can see himself into Rome – I won’t be there to fawn on him.’

  I laughed. ‘Where, then, domina?’

  She was vague. ‘Perhaps a quiet path along the Tiber …’

  I turned to see Nilla step into her own transport and go. If only she knew of the plans I had already made to become indispensible to her.

  Livia pinned her veil, ready to drift off to Somnus in the litter. I instructed the lictors to clear the way and took up my walking position alongside, where I could see my domina if she needed me. The litter was picked up by the bearers, and the sounds of exulting Romans began to echo in our ears as Little Boots neared the distant gate. I glanced at Livia through the litter’s curtain to see if she was taking even the smallest pride in his day of days. But I was struck by a sudden change in her features. Her face seemed to be shimmering – her skin had become a milky mist, dispersing into the air.

  ‘Domina?’

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked me, stirring.

  Livia was transforming before my eyes. ‘No, domina,’ I whispered. Her features had vanished. She was left with nothing but bright, white bones.

  ‘Then let me lie here undisturbed,’ she murmured. ‘I am enjoying my view of Rome.’

  I did not stare – I knew better than that. But I kept her face in the corner of my vision as I walked beside her down the Palatine Hill. Only her eyes remained unchanged. Onyx black, they stared ahead, seductive and deadly, a viper’s eyes.

  Two glittering stars in a fathomless, infinite night.

  READ ON FOR

  A PREVIEW OF

  EMPRESS OF

  ROME III:

  STEALTH OF

  VIXENS

  This incident, ignored by the historians, I found in the memoirs of Agrippina the Younger, in which she recorded for posterity her life and her family fortunes …

  Tacitus, AD 117

  Quinquatria

  March, AD 59

  An ill omen is seen in the withering of the

  Ruminalis, the eight-hundred-year-old

  fig tree that sheltered the infants Romulus

  and Remus

  This is not the first time I have given thought to writing down my memories. Four times before today, History’s muse has looked me in the eye and told me frankly that I must record my life while I still have life left in me. Four times she has told me and four times I have ignored her. Four times I have believed her ill-mannered, what’s more.

  On the first occasion the muse was unacceptably stern when my little Acte was exposed by Ahenobarbus and I thought I would die from the grief. But I did not die; I endured my pain, and my memoirs remained unwritten. She was firm again when Aemilius’s plan for murder was exposed and Little Boots saw my betrayal. The Senate bayed for my execution then but still I put nothing on papyrus. The muse was rudely persistent when I was sent into exile to rot in my living hell. Yet exile didn’t finish me and still I didn’t write – I believed myself quite indestructible. And there she was again, lasciviously licking my ear when Messalina marked me for death. But my enemy was beaten and my triumph was total, and again memoirs were far from my thoughts.

  But today the muse has come once more because again my life is imperilled. She has not been rude. I have not taken offence. This visit is unique and I have listened to her. My pen is in the ink at last, and the reason is stark, yet simple. I am doomed. My life is over. I will not survive what threatens me.

  I will begin to record what I can while the assassins muster themselves. Fate may rob me of sufficient time. My manuscript may fall into malevolent hands or, worse, face destruction before my own time comes. If so, I will rewrite it and rewrite it again, while the blood of Augustus still flows in me. The muse is here. She will not leave. These words are all I have left to give Rome.

  This story is mine.

  I am Julia Augusta Agrippina. Agrippina the Younger. Nilla.

  Where should I start? With the reign of my Emperor brother, Little Boots? I will certainly spend much time with him, but not yet. He can wait. Perhaps the deeds of my great-grandmother, Livia, would be a suitable commencement? Fascinating as she was, or is (for I am of the belief that she lives among us still), I will save her for a more fitting section. Perhaps the actions of the repellent Iphicles? That vilest of slaves begs to be exposed, so colossal are his delusions of grandeur. But I will pocket him with Livia and leave him for now, knowing he will keep very well.

  So where should I commence? And with whom? With my husbands? With my daughter? My lover? My crimes?

  No. I will start with my son. Not with his birth. Not with his childhood. Not with his mastery of Rome. I will start with today, this day of the muse, and write of my revelation.

  When I arrived at Antium this morning aboard the Imperial trireme, my son was there to meet me. Acerronia and Crepereius were my companions today, the friends I adore to travel with. They stood aside and beamed with joy as my boy welcomed me with outstretched hands.

  ‘Mama,’ he said. ‘I have missed you so.’

  ‘And I have missed you.’

  He cupped my cheeks in his hands and kissed me. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘I am so sorry for it all.’

  Tears came to my eyes and I forgave him.

  He conducted me to my mansion at Bauli, on the bay between Misenum and Baiae. Crowds lined the road – an unexpected surprise, but by no means unwelcome. When we reached my villa, I saw that other ships were moored at the little dock there. There were additional triremes, some smaller vessels, and one more lovely and sumptuous than anything west of the Nile.

  I was startled. ‘Is there an Eastern king here?’

  ‘No, Mama,’ said my son. ‘That beautiful boat is for you.’

  ‘For me?’

  He sank to his knee. ‘Accept it, Mama, and then I will know that you truly forgive me.’

  ‘Oh Lucius …’

  ‘Please, Mama.’

  ‘It is far too lavish.’

  ‘Mama, please.’

  I saw the encouraging looks Acerronia and Crepereius were giving me. I smiled. ‘Is this why you wanted me to land at Antium instead of Bauli?’

 
He gave his most boyish of smiles.

  ‘You wanted to make a proper spectacle of your gift, didn’t you? Lining the roads with crowds, indeed.’

  ‘They came of their own accord, Mama,’ he fibbed.

  I kissed him. ‘It is a lovely ship. Of course I accept it.’

  He shone.

  Invitations were given for a dinner party this afternoon in Baiae – a meal in my honour. When I had retired to my home to prepare myself, Acerronia brought a sealed letter to my bath.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It was delivered to the front door. The slaves took it. They said the messenger rode off without saying who he was or where he had come from.’

  ‘Is it from Burrus?’

  Acerronia didn’t think so. ‘There’s a seal.’

  I lifted my hand from the water for a bathing slave to dry it, then I examined the seal. I went pale. ‘It’s a fox.’

  ‘Nilla?’

  ‘The seal. It’s a female fox.’

  ‘Then it’s from someone you know?’

  ‘It’s impossible …’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘The seal is Messalina’s.’

  Acerronia was horrified. ‘Is this someone’s idea of a joke?’ The letter fell to the floor unopened as I submerged myself in the bath. ‘What is this, Nilla? Tell me.’

  ‘A message from hell?’

  ‘She’s dead. How can she be sending you letters?’

  I was frightened but wouldn’t let it show.

  Acerronia stared at the wax vixen. ‘Will you open it?’ she whispered.

  I had no answer.

  ‘Then let me throw it in the fire.’

  ‘No.’

  Her hand hovered above the letter.

  ‘Leave it where it is.’

  I finished my bath and Acerronia retired to complete her own preparations. When we met again in the atrium, Crepereius joining us, Acerronia said nothing of the letter at all. My son’s slaves had arrived and were beckoning us to use the glorious ship to convey us to Baiae.

  ‘For such a short journey?’

  ‘Yes, Augusta.’

  ‘But that seems so extravagant.’

  ‘The Emperor suggested it.’

  ‘I am not some Cleopatra using my barge to go a distance I could walk in ten minutes. Summon sedan chairs. The ship can stay here until I wish to return to Rome.’

  The slaves bowed. ‘Yes, Augusta.’

  I saw the little looks of disappointment that crossed Acerronia and Crepereius’s faces. ‘Surely you agree with me?’ I said.

  ‘Of course, Nilla,’ said Crepereius, wrapping a palla around my shoulders. ‘You’re certainly no Queen of the Nile – no one could ever call you that.’ There was a cheeky look in his eye.

  ‘Stop that at once,’ I said. ‘Teasing me will not change my mind. We will be perfectly comfortable in sedan chairs, and they’ll take us there with half the fuss, Crepereius.’

  We arrived at the villa in Baiae without incident, although we emerged from the chairs somewhat grimier. It hasn’t rained for weeks and the air was thick with road dust. Slaves bathed our feet in the hall as my son came to receive us.

  ‘Here you are, Mama.’ He saw our dirty bathwater but made no comment. ‘I have ordered the most wonderful banquet.’

  ‘How delightful.’

  He led me by the hand towards the triclinium, making a signal to the musicians to play. ‘Lovely,’ I whispered into his ear. He gave me the place of honour on the same dining couch as himself, tucking me up with cushions and house socks for warmth.

  The party went on for a long time. We talked of many things. My son was playful and intimate, and confidentially serious in turns. Throughout the meal my mind returned to the vixen’s seal. I had the letter tucked unopened inside my gown. It had not been sent by Messalina – that was impossible. Her head had been struck from her neck. Somehow her seal had become the property of another hand. But whose? And to what purpose had they written to me? I acknowledged the truth: fear was stopping me from opening it and learning the answer.

  When the hour grew late and I was ready to leave, my son clung to me and gazed into my eyes. ‘I love you, Mama,’ he murmured. ‘I love you so much.’

  ‘Oh Lucius,’ I whispered. I stroked his soft hair. ‘We both hate it when we fight, so why do we do it to ourselves?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mama.’ He began to cry. ‘I never know.’

  ‘Hush, now, none of that. We’re all better now.’ But he clung to me tighter. ‘You are your mother’s son,’ I said, ‘so driven and passionate and steeped in ideals. We are both the same, so it’s no wonder we quarrel. But our love is like iron. We will never lose it. We will never be without one another, my son.’

  He kissed my lips.

  As Acerronia and Crepereius accompanied me out the door, we saw the beautiful ship waiting at the dock. It had followed us there from Bauli. I looked back to the threshold, where my son still stood. He smiled sheepishly.

  ‘Lucius,’ I admonished him. ‘I wonder who this gift is really for – your mother or yourself? You’ve called it here so you can spend tomorrow sailing around the bay.’

  ‘I’ll be far too busy for such things,’ he insisted.

  I just laughed.

  ‘It is all yours, Mama, honestly it is. Even if you don’t want it now, it will still follow you around like a puppy dog.’

  ‘It’s a ridiculous extravagance.’

  He returned inside with a wink at me. Acerronia and Crepereius were chuckling.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Conspirators,’ I called them. We made our way to the ship. It would be our transport home to Bauli.

  Cheered on board by the sailors, Acerronia and I settled ourselves on deck. Couches had been provided and we were happy to use them. Crepereius took a place near the tiller. The evening was quiet and starlit, and the sea was wonderfully calm. The ship pulled anchor and the men below deck cast their oars. I tried to doze as we glided into the bay but sleep evaded me. I tossed and turned to find a more comfortable position and then caught eyes with Acerronia.

  ‘You still haven’t opened it,’ she said.

  I looked away.

  ‘You brought it with you, tucked inside your gown, and thought it wouldn’t be obvious. Really, Nilla!’

  ‘Nothing escapes you.’

  She was short with me. ‘Indeed it does not. If it’s a tasteless joke, as I think it is, then give it to me now so I can toss it over the side and be done with it.’

  She waited. I didn’t make a move. ‘All right, then. If it’s really something important, despite the obscenity of it bearing the vixen’s seal, then let’s open the thing and discover it.’ She waited again.

  I slowly drew the letter from my gown. At the tiller Crepereius was all eyes. ‘What’s that you’ve been hiding?’

  Acerronia gave him a look. ‘Mind your own business.’

  ‘Charming.’

  I tried to smile at him in my apprehension. ‘It’s a mysterious letter, Crepereius – probably a love note.’

  Acerronia was stern. ‘Open it.’

  I did. A surge of white, cold fear shot through my face, making my friends sit up in their seats. ‘What is it, Nilla?’ said Acerronia.

  ‘Oh my gods,’ I stammered. ‘No – oh my gods!’

  ‘You look like death,’ said Crepereius.

  I began to shake uncontrollably.

  ‘Nilla!’ Acerronia cried. ‘What is it, Nilla? Please?’

  The letter fell from my hands and she snatched at it. Her eyes filled with fright as she read what was there. ‘No. This cannot be …’

  The words were in Messalina’s writing.

  I am madness. I am vengeance. I have contaminated your son. Suffer your fate for it, mother of shit, and know that it comes from my hands.

  The sound of a massive tree trunk splintering filled the air, and I span around to see the ship’s mast lurch towards us. It was free of the ship, as if broken by a gale, but there w
asn’t one gust of breeze. ‘It’s come loose,’ I said, uncomprehendingly. ‘It’s going to fall …’

  Acerronia screamed and tried to run, but the hem of her stola snagged on the couch, throwing her back onto the cushions. I froze next to her, unable to move, as Crepereius went to shield me.

  ‘Your heads!’ he cried. ‘Cover your heads!’

  The great mast crashed over us, gashing through the deck and into the galley below. Crepererius was dragged down, killed outright by the impact. Acerronia and I, still on the couch, were alive in the midst of a nightmare. A hellish noise of weights and wheels and mechanisms grinding, metal against wood, screamed from the depths below us. Sections of the vessel began to break away, spilling into the water around us.

  ‘It’s a spectacle!’ Acerronia spluttered. ‘It’s a theatre set from the arena – it’s a stage ship!’

  I stared in bewilderment. The beautiful vessel was a novelty of the Ludi, assembled for no other purpose but to be destroyed. Water rushed up around our legs.

  ‘It’s the letter!’ Acerronia cried out. ‘This is what she cursed! She’s infected him! He’s done this to kill you!’

  My voice froze in my throat. The structure shattered and we tumbled headlong to the waves. In moments of crisis we often see our friends in new light. Acerronia, gulping water in panic, thought only of herself. ‘Help!’ she cried out. ‘Help me! I am the mother of the Emperor – help me!’ The sailors were in the sea with us, clutching the debris to save themselves. ‘Won’t you help me?’ Acerronia screamed at them. ‘I am Agrippina!’

  The first oar struck her above the eyebrow, slicing a gash to the bone. Blood filled her shocked eyes as a second oar followed, splitting her skull at the hairline. A third blow landed, then a fourth, and the sailors swam from everywhere to strike her, believing she was me. These were my son’s loyal men. They loved him as much as I did. And, just like me, they killed for him.

  Hidden by darkness, I clung to the wreckage, keeping my body below the waterline. When the tide took me away, I abandoned my haven and took to the open water. I swam with strong, sure strokes towards the shore, thanking Burrus with all my heart. It was he who had taught me how to survive in the open sea. We had swum to shore as children all those years ago, and we’d swum to another shore years later. Now I swam without him, and saved myself again, thanks wholly and entirely to his love.

 

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