Claudius accepted a third wine just as the couples began to eat the sacred spelt loaves. He tried to remember what he knew about the disgraced Aemilii and recalled that there were two more children, another daughter and a son. He saw the son among the guests at once, reclining on a couch next to Little Boots. The boys were friends. Claudius looked around for someone who might fit the appearance of the other Aemilii daughter but could find no one. He vaguely recalled that she had been married off several years ago.
'Are you drunk, Grandson?'
Livia's tone cut through the temple air, causing the priest to falter. Claudius spun around to find Livia watching him from her couch. I was in meek attendance at her side.
'I thought so,' said Livia.
Claudius hurried over to her couch as the ceremony resumed, hoping to quieten her. 'It is only my first wine,' he claimed.
'Liar. It's your third.'
Claudius blushed scarlet and Livia laughed at him, placing a cold, dry hand upon his arm. 'I'm only teasing you. It's a wedding — why shouldn't you enjoy yourself?'
The fact that he had drunk three cups of wine in rapid succession made Claudius reply before he had thought about it. 'Nobody else is enjoying it.'
There was a silence. Claudius blushed even darker and began to stammer in his efforts to excuse himself. 'I–I am sorry — '
'Don't be.'
For the first time in his life, Claudius looked into his grandmother's eyes and saw only good humour there. Then he glanced at me and was confused by my stark look of fear.
'Iphicles was making the same observation,' said Livia. 'Well, he would have made it if he were allowed to speak freely, but he is not, I'm afraid. But I could tell it's what he was thinking.'
Claudius knew there was something going on between us from which he was excluded. 'Yes, Grandmother?'
'No one's enjoying themselves at all, are they? You'd think it was a funeral, not a wedding. It's such a shame Agrippina is too unwell to be among us. I'm sure she'd be voicing her thoughts loud and clear. It's like we're all pretending we approve.'
It took Claudius a second or two to digest what she was saying to him. 'Are we pretending, Grandmother?'
'Well, I'm certainly not, but it seems I'm the only one.' She looked pointedly to me as she continued. 'My great-grandson Drusus's marriage to this girl from such a disgraced family is a sublime match. I congratulate my son the Emperor for arranging it. I also commend him for neglecting to attend. He refuses to leave his island now, did you know?'
Claudius was smiling in his bewilderment.
Livia kept her eyes on me. 'My great-granddaughter Nilla's marriage to the girl's brother is also something to thank the gods for. Apparently, he has next to no career prospects. He looks half-witted. Do you think he really is, or is it just the way the light strikes his dreadful hair?'
A parrot's squawk pulled Claudius from his stare. 'My bird. Excuse me, Grandmother,' he said hurriedly, glad of a reason to leave. 'I'm sure the two unions will work out well for all concerned.'
'Oh, I have absolutely no doubt of it,' said Livia, her eyes still trained on me.
Claudius hurried to the rear of the hall, where his parrot, Fury, flashed its red eyes and beat its wings. A woman and her little girl stared at the bird in fascination. 'Please,' he called out to them, 'do not provoke her — she has been known to give nasty bites.'
'Is it true this bird talks?' asked the mother.
'She hasn't spoken in years,' said Claudius, placing himself in front of the bird protectively. 'Sometimes I doubt she ever did. I think I must have imagined it.' He was keen for them to return to wherever it was they had come from.
'Maybe she'll speak if we ask her nicely?' said the little girl.
'I doubt it,' said Claudius. He went to guide the child away, but when she turned her face to him fully he gave a little gasp and dropped his hand. 'What a beautiful child,' he marvelled, unable to stop himself. Then he blushed scarlet again. 'Forgive me,' he said to the mother.
'My daughter is very beautiful,' the mother said, smiling warmly at him. 'People say it all the time. Yet she's only six. What effect will she have on men at sixteen, I wonder?'
Claudius felt a sense of peace descend as he considered this, gazing at the girl. 'She will be extraordinary,' he offered. He looked to the mother again. 'Do we know each other, madam?'
'I don't think so. But we are guests at the wedding. It is my brother and my sister who are being married.'
'It is my nephew and my niece,' said Claudius.
'Before my widowhood I was Lepida of the Mesalii. Now I am Lepida of the Aemilii again.'
She was the missing 'other sister'. Enchanted, Claudius told her who he was.
Lepida and her daughter bowed
'And who are you?' the beaming Claudius asked the angelic six-year-old.
Fury cocked her head to one side and squawked. 'Messalina,' she answered on the child's behalf, uttering her first words in years.
Echoing her daughter's delighted cries of amazement, Lepida remembered the words of her long-dead mother. 'Always look for the path. Veiovis will offer it, but it is up to you to see what he offers and recognise it for what it is…'
I believed I had an ally in Claudius. He had never treated me harshly and was always thankful when I performed some passing task for his benefit at Oxheads. I stole up to him just as he ushered Lepida and her daughter to their chairs.
' Domine,' I hissed.
Claudius barely saw me.
' Domine!'
'What is it, Iphicles?'
'Help me,' I said. Across the room, Livia snoozed in her dining couch.
Claudius looked awkward. 'What's the matter with you?'
'What are the reasons for it?' I hissed. 'These two inauspicious marriages. They don't make sense. Not one guest here believes in these unions. Only my domina does. Why does she believe? What is behind them? What is the plan?'
Claudius was appalled that my words reached Lepida's shocked ears. 'Iphicles, you speak out of turn.'
I was losing my wits. 'Help me, domine,' I pleaded with him. 'Why does she approve of this? Help me see the truth of what she schemes.'
A scream brought our conversation to an end. Across the hall a high-pitched cry stopped the final words of the double wedding ceremony. The brides and grooms turned to see a dozen Praetorians descending, with Tribune Macro at their head. It was Lygdus who had cried out in terror.
'It's lies!'
Macro struck him across the mouth and he fell. Then he turned to the eunuch's dominus. 'Nero Julius Caesar Germanicus, by the order of the Emperor Tiberius I place you under arrest.'
Nero stood up from his dining couch and looked the Tribune coolly in the eye. He was noble and unafraid, the very image of his murdered father in his prime. 'What is the charge?'
'Gross depravity,' said Macro without expression.
I went pale and glanced at the wedding couples. Drusus looked ill. Had he received my damning notes on his brother's proclivities after all? Had Livia made copies before I ate them?
Nero held out his arms for the chains.
' Domina!' Lygdus screamed from the floor. 'See this, domina! Domina!'
But Livia slept on as they led Nero away. Claudius pushed me aside, disturbed and confused by the turn the day had taken. Ever more bewildered, I stumbled back to the sleeping Livia. She was murmuring with a tone that almost seemed smug.
'Iphicles,' she whispered from her slumber. 'Iphicles…'
Trembling, I leaned my ear to her lips. 'What is it, domina?'
' The third is hooked by a harpy's look — the rarest of all birds …'
I recoiled. The words seemed meaningless, yet they held an inestimable importance.
Livia opened her eyes to look at me. 'A harpy is what the Greeks call a fury, you know.' Then she closed them again, asleep once more.
Across the hall Claudius had eyes only for the beautiful child. At last I experienced the first moment of comprehension I had know
n for a long, long time.
Claudius was the third king.
Nilla threw the ugly thing hard across the room. 'I will not,' she said. 'It is disgusting.'
Expressionless, the aged maid of the Aemilii, once a devoted servant of the condemned Aemilia, retrieved the wooden Mutinus Tutunus phallus and placed it upright on the bed. 'All women of the Aemilii must give their virginity to the fertility deity, domina,' the maid said without apology. 'It is a tradition of many centuries.'
Nilla wouldn't let herself cry or glance at her silent, naked husband. 'I said it's disgusting,' she repeated. 'Take it out of my sight, and yourself with it.'
The maid shot a look to her serving companion and suddenly both women had Nilla by the arms. 'The domina must. My late mistress would have insisted on it. This is her house. This is her room.'
'Let go of me.' Nilla struggled against them. 'Let me go!'
The women dragged her to the side of the bed and pulled the undergarments from her.
'It ensures the birth of a boy child, domina. Your virginity is the treasure most cherished by the god, and he is generous with his rewards.'
The curved phallus was enormous, dull black and ugly. 'Don't make me do this,' Nilla screamed. 'Please!' The tip nudged against her unbroken cleft, seeking to enter her. 'Oh gods!' The tears sprang from her eyes. 'Oh gods!'
Ahenobarbus whipped the thing away just as the servants began to lower her. Shocked, the old maid turned on him. ' Domine — you cannot interfere here!'
Wielding it like a spear, he thrust the thing in her face. The second maid shrieked. Ahenobarbus thrust again, forcing the phallus into the old woman's mouth. She choked and spluttered.
Nilla seized the advantage. 'Get out! Get out!' she screamed at the two women.
Disgorging the fertility tool, the old maid staggered to the door, her companion pulling her outside. Nilla kicked the doors shut behind them, her hand at her breast to steady her heart as she tried to find her breath. At last she turned to face her husband.
'Thank you,' she whispered to Ahenobarbus.
The tall mute said nothing, the light from the oil lamp making his strange, pale skin glow like marble. They stared at each other. The wedding ceremony had been the first time Nilla had been permitted to see him since the announcement of their betrothal. She knew nothing about him at all, except that her body was now legally his to employ as he would. This she could not fight as she had the foul phallus.
She waited for him to make any kind of move towards her but Ahenobarbus remained where he was, standing on the other side of the connubial room. Nilla moved quickly to the bed and slipped under the linen, pulling it under her chin and never taking her eyes from him. Still he didn't move, although he kept his eyes upon hers.
'Are you mute through choice, husband,' she whispered, 'or have you never spoken?'
Ahenobarbus said nothing.
'I think it must be that you have never talked,' she said, 'and have never been able to talk due to some affliction. No one would cease speaking of their own accord.'
She waited. Ahenobarbus moved forward and her heart leaped to her throat. Would he take her now in the way that the phallus would have? But his violence had gone. He sat at the edge of the bed. Yet Nilla saw with apprehension that he was becoming aroused. She grasped at the hope that by continuing to speak to him, the inevitable might be delayed. 'It must be such a cruel thing to suffer, silence. Yet you must have found the means to communicate with the world. How do you do it, husband?'
He reached forward and touched her thigh beneath the linen.
'Do you write your words down so that others might read what you want?'
His hand journeyed towards her belly and Nilla's eyes darted about the room to see if a wax tablet sat anywhere. 'Is that your method, husband? To write it all in wax?'
His penis rose from the corner of her vision, but she would not let her eyes leave his. And she knew how badly they must be betraying her fear.
'Why don't you write it for me, husband? Tell me how you feel about our union. Tell me how I might be a good wife to you.'
Ahenobarbus's hand brushed the nipple of her breast and she blushed to realise it had hardened. Was this desire she felt? How could it be?
Ahenobarbus stood up, his erect penis before her face for a moment until his back was turned to her and she realised he was leaving the room. Gratitude overwhelmed her. He had listened to what she said. He was going to find a wax tablet. 'I will wait here for you,' she whispered after him, and then felt foolish. What else would she do?
Somewhere in the rooms below Nilla heard a water clock chime that the hour of Concubia had come. It was very late. Then, after what had seemed like minutes, she heard the hour of Intempesta signalled and she realised she had fallen asleep. The oil lamp was out. Ahenobarbus had not returned. The doors to the connubial room remained ajar from when he had left her. Nilla crept from the bed and stood at the threshold, peering into the blackness of the corridor.
'Husband? Are you there?'
'It's just as well you spat the phallus from your sex, domina.'
Nilla stifled a scream. The aged maid sat huddled on a pallet near the door.
'It is just as well, for the deity would have choked in your hole once he'd sniffed what had been there before him.'
Nilla went white. 'How dare you use such words!'
'You disgust this house,' said the maid. 'And you'll disgust all Rome when the truth gets out.'
Nilla reeled. 'I am a virgin bride.'
'If that's true, then you've sewn up your hole to become one.'
Enraged, Nilla drew back her hand to strike but the old woman snatched at her wrist, twisting it. 'Slave-fucker,' she hissed. 'You and your little slave. He polluted you for the master — polluted you for this house. The torments of the fallen Aemilii are made unending with this marriage. You are a punishment for us!'
Nilla pulled her arm free. 'Burrus is dead,' she sobbed. 'Drowned!' She could have died herself for even mentioning his precious name to this gorgon. 'I never slept with him. Our love for each other was chaste,' she tried to add.
The old woman's spittle struck her cheek. Blinded by grief, Nilla lurched away, fleeing down the corridor towards the stairs to the floor below. She didn't see the descent until too late and her foot slipped in the darkness, throwing her forward to strike her head against the ancient stone. She rolled and fell the full length of the steps, just as Aemilia of the Aemilii had done years before. Nilla came to rest on the cold stone floor at the bottom, slumped like a broken doll.
Sounds of enjoyment awoke her. A man's pleasure, perhaps, or a woman's sensual moans; it was difficult to be sure. The sounds drifted to her ears from somewhere deep in the house as she slowly climbed to consciousness again. Nilla tried to move her limbs. Nothing was broken, only grazed and bruised. Her head throbbed from where it had struck the edge of the stair. She managed to stand.
From the gloom of the cobwebbed atrium, Nilla could see that the curtains dividing that space from the tablinum had been pulled aside. The private study for the master of the house was a shambles, long neglected and thick with dust. Her hand pressed to her bleeding temple, Nilla stood at the room's edge and looked through to the peristyle garden beyond. Years before, the girl Domitia had picked winter flowers for her condemned mother there. The flowers were long dead too.
Ahenobarbus lay on a pallet in the soil, his loins thrusting upwards and down. Astride him was a girl no older than Nilla, her small, pointed breasts glistening in the moonlight as she moaned again in pleasure, riding him. It was Albucilla, the drowned minnow that Ahenobarbus had revived on Capri. She plucked the lit stub of a candle and waved the flame before her nipples, letting it lick her like a tongue. Ahenobarbus echoed her moan and Nilla heard the only noise she would ever know from his throat. Whether they knew she was there, she couldn't tell, so focused were they on the gratification of their bodies. They achieved climax together, gasping with it, clutching at each other's mouths, as Al
bucilla let the candle wax drip upon her skin.
The hand that reached for Nilla's was warm. It enfolded her palm and fingers in a manner that felt comforting and familiar, before her wits returned and she jumped with fear. The hand let go and she span around. At the other side of the atrium the front door of the house was open, admitting a warm breeze from the street. The room curtains stirred but Ahenobarbus and his lover were oblivious, slumbering where they lay.
The aged maid shut the door, stilling the breeze, before shuffling away to the shadows.
'How could this be?' Nilla whispered. 'How is this possible?'
Burrus pressed his lips to hers and the taste of him was salty. He enfolded her in his strong young arms, browned by the sun and the sea. 'You know better than anyone how well I swim, Lady.'
If patrician marriage was what she had been given, then this union with an accursed house came with features all of its own. The wordless husband had a lover, a whore, with whom he cavorted under the roof that sheltered his wife. Accordingly, if the wife should make a gift of her virginity to a slave, how could it be seen as wicked in such a home, where the normal rules of morality did not apply? And if this house came with an aged, wizened maid who in the one breath condemned and then abetted those she served, it was surely just another thing to mark it as special among the thousands of homes in Rome.
Held tight in her beloved's arms as he carried her up the stairs, Nilla vowed never to question what this strange marriage might give her.
She heard the gentle rise and fall of Burrus's chest beside her in the bed and knew that he was sleeping. Careful not to wake him, Nilla slipped from the sheets and lowered herself upon the low marble bowl that stood behind a screen at the end of the room. She prepared to wash herself, as she had once been shown — the means to prevent a pregnancy. But as she placed her fingers in the water, an object caught her eye. A tiny length of lead, jammed in a crack between the floorboards.
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