Nero

by David Wishart

  'Lovely, darling! Absolutely lovely!' he said; then, turning to Agrippina: 'Wasn't it lovely, Mummy?' And, before she could answer: 'Now I think we should toast my divine stepfather's memory.'

  Slaves stepped forward to fill the cups. There was still no talking. Lucius stood up and peered towards the back of the dining-room, shading his eyes as if trying to make out something in the far distance.

  'Cooee!'' he shouted. 'Britannicus! Oh, Britannicus! Briti-briti-tannicus!'

  There was no answer. Britannicus ignored him, pretending to be deep in conversation with the African governor's son. Acte, I noticed, was close to tears.

  Lucius beamed. He turned to the head wine slave. 'Make sure his wine's well watered,' he said loudly. 'The poor child's obviously had too much already and it's gone to his ears. But now let's have that toast.' Snatching the man's jug he slopped wine into a goblet and pressed it into Agrippina's unwilling hands. 'There, Mother,' he said. 'You propose it for us. To the Pumpkinified...oh, I am so sorry, my dear! To theDivine Claudius!'

  Agrippina stood up. Her eyes were on her son's. She raised the goblet.

  'To your predecessor and father, the former emperor,' she said calmly. 'To the Divine Claudius.' She took the barest sip.

  'Oh do come on, Mother!' Lucius's voice was bright and jagged as a new saw-blade. 'You can do better than that, a hardened drinker like you! You don't think the wine might be– oh, my! – poisoned, surely?'

  She stared at him for a long time. Then, slowly, her eyes on his, she drained the cup and set it down empty on the table. We all waited for her to fall.

  Someone at the back of the room – the African governor's son – shouted. Along with everyone else, I turned to see Britannicus writhing like a hooked gudgeon on the floor beside his couch.

  'It's all right, darlings!' Lucius's voice was shrill with excitement. 'It's all right! The child's an epileptic! He's an epileptic! I tell you, it's all right!'

  We were all on our feet now, staring at the writhing figure, but no one made any other movement. Silia's hand gripped my wrist, the nails digging hard into the flesh, and she was murmuring, over and over again, 'Oh, gods! Oh, gods!' Finally the boy stopped moving. There was a horrible rattling sound, followed by a long silence. Everyone, now, was looking at the emperor.

  Slowly, he lay back down on his couch. His eyes glittered and he was breathing in short, shallow gasps as if he had just achieved a sexual orgasm.

  'Oh dear, oh dear!' he said softly to Agrippina. 'Mummy's own little boy seems to have choked to death. So who's her darling now, then, we wonder?'

  Their eyes locked for a long, silent moment. Then the empress swept down from the dais and out of the room.

  I glanced across at Seneca and Burrus. They looked grey and old. Acte's head was on her arm, and she was weeping.

  10.

  Two days later, when Acte finally showed her face by arrangement at Silia's, I still hadn't got the horror out of my bones.

  'He's very upset,' she said. They were her first words, before she had even sat down.

  Silia and I both stared at her. 'He's upset?' I said. 'Serapis!'

  Acte rubbed her puffy eyes. She looked terrible, and I doubt whether in these two days she'd slept at all. 'Of course he is! He didn't enjoy doing it, you know. He felt really bad later.'

  I couldn't trust myself to comment. Getting up from the folding stool where I'd been sitting when the slave brought her in I began to pace the room.

  'Do sit down, Titus,' Silia said from her chair by the pool. 'You're making me giddy.'

  'He was frightened.' Acte was glaring at me. 'He always lashes out when he's frightened. It's not his fault.'

  'Even frightened people draw the line at murder, dear,' I said. 'Sane ones, anyway.'

  'Lucius is sane!' Acte snapped. Then she dropped her gaze. Her long, slim fingers twisted together. 'Well...'

  'Exactly.' I pulled up the stool. 'Admit it. The boy's barking mad.'

  There was a long silence.

  'It took him ages to admit he was responsible,' Acte said at last in a low voice. 'To me, I mean. To everyone else he's still insisting Britannicus had a fit or swallowed the poison by accident. Seneca and Burrus say they believe him, but you can see they're just being...careful.'

  'Indeed,' I said drily. '"Careful" is right. Where was the poison, by the way?'

  'In the water jug.'

  'Ah. Clever.' That explained Lucius's instructions to the wine slave about further diluting the boy's wine. Everyone else's would've had the correct amount of water already mixed in. 'I'm surprised he didn't kill the other lad while he was at it. The governor's son.'

  'Oh, but he wouldn't! Lucius isn't a murderer!'

  'Oh, Serapis!' I turned away from her in disgust.

  'What about Agrippina, dear?' Silia said quickly.

  'She's keeping her distance.' Acte picked absently at a broken nail. 'But that's another thing. Lucius is terribly worried that she's angry with him.'

  'He's what?' I genuinely couldn't believe my ears. 'Oh, my dear girl! Oh, how simply marvellous!'

  Acte had the grace to look embarrassed. 'Petronius, you don't understand! What his mother thinks is important to him, very important. He's afraid she doesn't love him any more.'

  I took a deep breath. 'Let's get this straight, darling. The emperor insults Agrippina in public, pretends he's poisoning her, actually does poison her stepson in front of her eyes, and the poor dear's afraid that she mightn't love him any more?'

  'That's right.'

  'So what the hell does he expect? A round of applause?'

  Silia held up a hand. 'Let Acte explain, Titus,’ she said quietly.

  Acte frowned. 'Yeah, I know it sounds...odd, but like I said you don't understand because you don't know Lucius like I do. After everyone left he was okay. Really high, you know? So...'

  'Okay means the same as really high in your vocabulary, does it? I see.'

  'Titus!'

  Acte shot me a sideways glance. 'He kept saying, "Now she'll have to love me," and "Wouldn't Uncle Gaius have been proud?"' Oh, Jupiter! 'But then when I finally got him to bed he just lay curled up, saying she wouldn't love him any more because he was bad.'

  'For God's sake!' I leaned back, forgetting in my anger that I was sitting on a stool, and almost overbalanced. 'Lucius is a grown man! That's the kind of language I'd expect from a six-year-old!'

  'That's the point I'm trying to make, Petronius,' Acte said patiently. 'He is a child, in many ways.'

  'He's the fucking ruler of the world, darling, and don't you forget it! And I don't like that bit about Gaius, either.' Gaius – Caligula – had murdered his quondam co-heir Gemellus. If Lucius took to regarding Caligula as a model of behaviour then we were in the shit up to our eyeballs.

  'It's not his fault!' Acte snapped. 'It's the Empress! She has him tied up in knots!'

  'I agree, Titus,' Silia said.

  I stared at her. 'You what?'

  'Oh, I'm not defending him. What he did was inexcusable. But that woman is a spiritual Lamia.'

  Despite my anger, I saw her point. Lamia is the nursery bogey who steals children from their cradles, eats their flesh and sucks their blood. It was a fair parallel to draw. If Lucius was turning into a monster then a large part of the blame was Agrippina's. Even so...

  I got up and poured myself a cup of wine.

  'What has he done with the body?' I asked: Britannicus's death had still not been officially announced.

  'He had it burned.' Acte's voice was toneless. 'We buried the ashes in the palace cellars. Petronius, he's suffering, don't you understand?'

  I drank my wine and said nothing; frankly, I couldn't trust myself. Whatever sympathy I could muster most certainly did not extend to poor dear Lucius. The little bastard was a disaster waiting to happen and we'd be far better off without him.

  'I'm afraid, Titus, that in this instance I'm on Acte's side. Lucius deserves his chance,' said Silia. 'Dreadful though this whole thing i
s I think it may turn out to be for the best in the end.'

  I sighed.

  'I'm sorry, my dear, but I disagree. The boy's mad and bad both. Unfortunately he's also Emperor of Rome. Let's just hope Seneca and Burrus can keep him in bounds.'

  Acte squared her jaw.

  'Of course we can,' she said.

  'Bully for you, darling.' I drained my wine-cup. 'Personally I intend to keep my head down.'

  I did. By the gods I did. Not that it had any effect, mind.

  11.

  I was coming out of my banker's in the Market Square when I bumped into Arruntius – literally – as he hurried away from a huddle of broad-stripers near the old Speakers Platform. Whatever they'd been discussing (and they'd been discussing something, that was clear, not just passing the time of day), the matter was serious. Arruntius was scowling. I apologised.

  'Morning, Petronius.' He didn't sound too friendly, but then I had trodden fairly decisively on his foot. 'What brings you out of the woodwork so early?'

  I shrugged. 'A poor investment. I'm cutting my losses before they cut me.'

  'Know the feeling.' His scowl lifted a little – cash-flow problems are always a shared bond– but he still looked grave. We fell into step together as he walked towards the Temple of the Divine Julius.

  'You've heard the news?' he said at last.

  'What news?'

  'About the prosecution.'

  'No. What prosecution?'

  'It's all over the Square. That stupid cow Silana. Jupiter grant Silia's not mixed up in it somewhere, although I wouldn't put it past her.'

  'Silia?' I felt the first prickle of unease. Junia Silana was Silia'ssister-in-law, or had been until her brother had been executed for adultery with the infamous Messalina. They were still close friends. 'Arruntius, just tell me, please. What's happened?'

  'Silana's taking on the empress. A treason charge.'

  I stopped dead. 'Silana's accusing Agrippina of treason?'

  'Not directly, she's using a couple of freedmen stooges. But it's common knowledge. Last night all hell broke loose up at the palace.'

  'What makes you think Silia might be involved?'

  'You tell me!' he snapped. The scowl was back with a vengeance. 'You're the bastard who got her mixed up in politics!'

  That was unfair and he knew it; if anything it was the other way round. However, a gentleman does not criticise a lady, especially if she is his mistress and he's talking to her husband, so I let it pass. Arruntius was clearly not himself; not that the real Arruntius was much better, mind.

  I caught at his arm and steered him towards the porch of Castor's temple. Like him I was worried, seriously so. He was right, of course. This was just the sort of dangerous, high-handed, crack-brained scheme Silia might well come up with, and although Silana was no demure Roman matron she was not, to put it kindly, overburdened with brains. I parked us by a pillar and began the serious grilling.

  'All right, then,' I said. 'Now tell me the whole story.'

  'You honestly don't know?'

  'Honestly.'

  Arruntius shook his head. 'I don't know all the details myself.'

  'Oh, come on, Arruntius! Whatever you've got!'

  'You know Silana's hated the empress's guts since that business with young Africanus?'

  I nodded. The affair had provided a juicy bit of scandal several years before. Silana, never the chastest woman in Rome, had sunk her well-manicured claws into a certain young nobleman called Sextius Africanus. Agrippina had used her influence to break off the liaison (rumour had it because she wanted the good-looking boy for herself) and Silana, up to then Agrippina's closest friend, had never either forgotten or forgiven.

  'Well,' Arruntius went on, 'what with Agrippina in disgrace Silana's taking the chance to get her own back. According to her the empress is planning a coup, with Rubellius Plautus as co-partner.'

  I laughed. 'Plautus? Arruntius, you cannot be serious!' Rubellius Plautus was a boringly sensible young prig with a strong sense of duty to the state; it would not have surprised me if he had SPQR embroidered on to his drawers. 'Even the emperor wouldn't believe god-rotting Plautus, darling!'

  'You want to bet?' Arruntius was looking sour. 'It's plausible enough. Agrippina's been touting for support for months among the top families. Plautus's mother was Tiberius's granddaughter, he's got the blood and the connections. And last I heard the emperor wasn't exactly noted for his level-headedness.'

  A fair point. I remembered what Acte had said about Lucius lashing out when he was frightened. And Lucius, it was becoming horribly apparent, was very easily frightened indeed.

  'So what's the problem?' I said. 'It's terribly hard luck on Plautus, of course, but if Silana manages to get rid of Agrippina she'll have done everyone a favour.'

  'If is right. I wouldn't count my chickens, Petronius. Only someone as pea-brained as Silana would underestimate Agrippina.'

  'There's your answer, then. Silia is not a pea-brain.'

  'Let's hope she isn't,' he grunted and moved away from the pillar. 'You seem to know more about my wife than I do. Now I'm sorry, Petronius, but I've important business. Will you be seeing her today?'

  'Silia? I might.' In fact we'd arranged to meet later that morning at Argyrio's the jeweller's in the Saepta to browse through his latest acquisitions.

  'Good. Then tell her what I've told you. And even if she isn't involved tell her that if she's any remaining vestige of sense she'll drop her good old pal straight down the nearest drain-hole.'

  'But it was all Silana's idea, dear, honestly!' Silia was wearing her most innocent expression; the one I didn't trust an inch. 'I was so proud of her for thinking of it, because she isn't very...well, poor Silana isn't exactly cerebral, if you know what I mean.' She held up a pair of ruby earrings. 'What do you think of these? Aren't they lovely?'

  'Far too ornate, darling. And ridiculously over-priced.'

  'True.' She handed them over to Argyrio, who was holding the stacked trinket-tray on the other side of the counter and smiling vacantly at the air between us: deafness was a common complaint in the Saepta's upmarket shops, 'Put them on my husband's bill, please, Argyrio.'

  'Certainly, madam,' he said: the deafness was, after all, selective.

  Silia scanned the tray. 'Oh, look!' She picked up a cameo brooch with Lucius's face in profile and held it up to the light; such light as there was in the shop when the doorway was almost blocked by the two gigantic Nubians whom Argyrio used to protect his stock from sneak-thieves and bogus customers. 'Isn't it a good likeness, poor lamb? He's such a pretty boy! Mind you, he'll go terribly jowly like his father in a couple of years. You can see the signs already.'

  'So.' I took the brooch from her and put it back: imperial portrait jewellery is so tacky, I always think, however well done. 'You had nothing to do with this ridiculous scheme.'

  'Of course not!' She paused. 'Well, not much. And I wouldn't exactly call it ridiculous. It really is quite plausible.'

  Plausible. Arruntius's adjective.

  'It may be plausible,’ I said. ‘But is it true?'

  'Oh, Titus, please don't be tiresome, there's a dear! What does truth have to do with it?'

  I sighed. 'Because if the accusation's false, as I assume it is, then Arruntius is right. Silana will never make the charge stick, and Agrippina will be in a stronger position than ever.'

  'Nonsense. She's only just clinging on by her fingernails as it is. A charge of treason will be the last little push that sends her over the edge.'

  'You think Lucius would exile his own mother without firm proof? Especially his mother?'

  'But of course he would! Frankly, dear, I think he'd welcome the excuse. They've hardly exchanged a word for months, not since he sent her out of the palace to live in that poky old place of her grandmother's. Lucius is growing up at last, he isn't the boy he was.'

  'That's certainly true. In fact why should he stop at exile? He already has one family killing to his credit, and
there's nothing like murder forgiving one confidence.'

  'Titus!' Silia was frowning, and making frantic signalling movements with her eyes. I glanced at Argyrio, who was already at the far end of the counter straightening a necklace. Even selective deafness, it seemed, had its limits, and I'd just overstepped them.

  'I'm sorry,' I murmured.

  'So you should be! Anyone would think you were defending the woman.'

  'Of course I'm not defending her! But I am worried, especially after that talk with Arruntius.'

  'Oh, don't pay any attention to Gnaeus! The poor dear hasn't an optimistic bone in his body.'

  I didn't laugh. 'That may be true, darling, but Agrippina's still dangerous, and she's slippery as a greased eel. You're no match for her, and poor Silana certainly isn't. So it's all down to which way Lucius jumps.' A thought struck me. 'What does Acte have to say?'

  'How should I know?' Silia still sounded petulant; I could see that I'd have to buy her that hideous imperial cameo after all. 'I haven't seen the woman for over a month.'

  I beckoned to Argyrio. He came, rubbing his palms together and exuding an expensive scent of musk.

  'Then perhaps you should,' I said.

  12.

  Getting into the palace was even more difficult than usual. Arruntius was right, all hell was loose and security had been doubled. Luckily Silia spotted a freedman she knew who was willing to carry a message to Acte. She came to the gate personally and took us through.

  I hadn't seen her myself for two or three months, not since Britannicus's death in fact. Then, she'd looked terrible, and she didn't look all that much better now. Life with Lucius couldn't be easy, especially for someone not brought up to the stresses of political life. If nothing else I admired the woman's dedication.

  'Come on up,' she said. 'Lucius is with Seneca. We won't be disturbed.' She led us along a marble-lined corridor and then through a door fitted flush with the panelling. 'This is the back way. It's more private.'

  'A change from your old city tenement, darling,' I said, to make conversation.

  'Yeah.' Her voice was brittle as glass. 'Which do you think I prefer? One guess.'