Nest of Vipers Page 22

  But Agrippina embraced her sister-in-law, pulling her down from the stool and into Sosia and Claudia’s arms. Livilla’s fear was replaced by confusion.

  ‘We are together – we are one in what we’ve suffered,’ Agrippina declared. Her voice was high and raised – she intended the crowd to hear it. ‘Both our husbands have been taken from us, taken from Rome – taken by the same man!’

  Livilla nearly fainted in horror.

  ‘Taken by the same man!’ Sosia repeated, her voice holding surprising power.

  The watching crowd fell spellbound. Agrippina’s retinue of a hundred men and slaves forced themselves among the bewildered throng of Castor’s bereaved clients and other onlookers.

  ‘Stop it,’ Livilla hissed in Agrippina’s ear.

  ‘You know who we accuse,’ said Claudia.

  ‘Stop it!’ Livilla screamed. She scrambled to get back inside her litter again, taking the bearers by surprise. Half the men lifted, the others didn’t, causing the canopied platform to shudder and sway.

  ‘Mother, what are you doing?’ Tiberia cried out from inside as Livilla clambered in.

  ‘Take me home!’ Livilla screamed at the bearers. Outside, the confused lictor gathered up the stool again. Agrippina and her women friends cast calculating looks at each other and then Agrippina threw herself into the litter, causing Livilla and Tiberia to yell with fright. The six bearers staggered to keep their balance.

  Agrippina gripped Livilla by the wrist. ‘He killed Germanicus.’

  ‘Let go of me, for the gods’ sake!’ cried Livilla.

  ‘He was jealous of him – he knew Germanicus would outshine him and he couldn’t stand it. He would rather have seen him dead – so that’s what he arranged.’

  In her fragile emotional state, Tiberia would ordinarily have burst into fresh tears at such a distressing development, but now she was riveted by her aunt’s intensity. ‘Who? Who arranged it?’

  Agrippina stared at the girl. ‘You poor little child …’

  ‘Whom do you accuse, aunt?’ Tiberia insisted. ‘Tell me.’

  Livilla tore her wrist from her sister-in-law’s grip. ‘Don’t you dare speak his name, Agrippina.’

  ‘Now he has killed your husband too, jealous of Castor just like he was jealous of Germanicus – he’s insane.’

  ‘Castor died of a fever, a river mist …’

  ‘No one believes that, Livilla – not one person in Rome.’

  ‘I believe it – I know it. I saw him when he died.’

  Tiberia snatched at Agrippina’s clothes. ‘Please, tell me who did these terrible things to us, Aunt.’

  Livilla slapped Agrippina hard across the cheek. ‘If you say Sejanus’s name aloud he will kill you – do you understand? He will kill you for it.’

  Tiberia blanched. ‘The Praetorian Prefect?’

  ‘You never heard me say it,’ Livilla threatened her. ‘You never heard me, girl.’

  But it was Agrippina’s turn for bewilderment. ‘But I accuse Tiberius …’

  Livilla threw a shocked hand to her lips as her face went very white.

  ‘Prefect Sejanus is a soldier,’ said Agrippina. ‘He has no reason to kill my husband or yours – his role is to serve his betters. He is not even a patrician.’

  It took Livilla a long moment to steady herself. She had guessed very wrongly where Agrippina’s accusation would lie, and in doing so had made a fateful mistake. Outside, the litter was moving so slowly through the surging crowds that I was easily able to keep up and overhear this desperate conversation. But Agrippina’s intensity was so great that she missed the significance of what Livilla had said, so certain was she that Tiberius was to blame. Agrippina produced a scrap of papyrus from the folds of her woollen palla.

  ‘Someone sends me these. I don’t know who, but he is a friend.’

  Livilla allowed the papyrus to uncurl in her hand. It was a torn fragment from something much larger and she dimly recognised the lettering.

  ‘It’s by my mother, Julia,’ said Agrippina. ‘She wrote this while imprisoned, and not long before she died. She thought my grandfather, the Divine Augustus, was coming to forgive her, but she learned too late that he had fallen to the same hand that had taken all those before him.’

  Livilla began to read it.

  … your golden brothers murdered in their prime, never

  realising, never seeing death come …

  She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. ‘But this is –’

  ‘About your own grandmother. Livia killed my three brothers and many more; she killed my father, Agrippa, and she killed my mother’s first husband, Marcellus. And do you know why? So no one would stand in the path of Tiberius taking the place of the Divine Augustus.’

  Outside the litter my throat went very dry. This was the first I had learned of the mysterious letter fragments. My own role in all those murders was, of course, considerable. Had Julia guessed this and also written about me?

  Inside the litter Livilla’s mind frantically tried to work out who the mysterious ‘friend’ might be who had sent them. Then she realised that it could only be Sejanus, and she took a secret pleasure when she thought of the likely motive behind his plan. It was solely intended to incite reckless action from Agrippina. Outside, I drew the same conclusion, but my anxiety certainly wasn’t lessened any.

  ‘My grandmother Livia is near death,’ Livilla said to Agrippina. ‘How could she have murdered your husband and now my husband too?’

  ‘She didn’t. Tiberius kills in her place now – he wants to rule forever.’

  Livilla stared at Agrippina. This was why Agrippina was the widow of widows – her grief was all-consuming. It addled her mind. She was losing her judgement, along with her tact and her reason. Soon, Livilla sensed, it would bring on Agrippina’s destruction. She felt sorry for her for this, but not unduly so. Livilla and Agrippina were travelling two very different paths, and Livilla knew that only one of them would ever taste destiny. She softened her look to her. ‘What will you do?’ she whispered.

  Agrippina’s eyes filled with tears of relief. ‘You believe what I’ve said, don’t you?’

  Livilla avoided answering directly. ‘What will you do?’

  I strained to listen from the other side of the litter curtain.

  ‘You saw the crowd of men that follows me?’

  ‘Yes.’ Livilla didn’t mention that she, too, was now attracting her own considerable retinue.

  ‘They would fight for me if I asked them to. They would defend me against enemies who wish to harm me for making the accusations I make.’

  ‘Accusations against Tiberius?’ Livilla whispered, feeling a secret surge of excitement.

  Agrippina confirmed. ‘Will you join me if the time comes?’

  Livilla’s mind raced with how best to answer. Eventually, she just nodded. There seemed no other reply to give that wouldn’t send the unstable Agrippina into a rage. But Agrippina was made so emotional by this show of apparent support that she hugged Livilla for many minutes.

  When Agrippina finally left them alone again and the litter was once more making progress in its return to Oxheads, Livilla noticed her daughter. Tiberia had been deeply affected by all that her aunt had said and done.

  ‘Her mind is unsound,’ Livilla told her. ‘Her grief has driven her mad. You mustn’t believe what she tells you.’

  Tiberia nodded. ‘She loved Uncle Germanicus so much,’ she said, ‘more than you loved Father, I think.’

  For the second time that morning Livilla feared she had become transparent. But Tiberia’s observation, however accurate, had no accusation attached. ‘I don’t mean to offend you, Mother. You loved my Father – of course you did – but not like Aunt Agrippina loved my uncle. Her love for him was like the love between immortals, I think.’

  ‘Your aunt loved too much,’ Livilla said. ‘It’s very dangerous – a weakness in her.’

  Tiberia
nodded again, but it was obvious she now looked at things differently. ‘When you told me I was betrothed to cousin Nero, I wasn’t very excited at first.’

  ‘You mustn’t worry about that now,’ Livilla began to say.

  ‘But he is my aunt’s son, so perhaps he loves as she does – and perhaps he will come to love me with such devotion too? I would be pleased if he did – I look forward to the day we are married now.’

  For the first time in a long time the rush of sadness that came to Livilla was very real. But she couldn’t risk warning her sensitive daughter as to why. Instead she said, ‘When the time comes, the groom who marries you will love you very much, Tiberia. I’ll make sure of it.’

  Tiberia smiled, happy, as her mother looked guiltily away.

  In the street outside, Agrippina waited for her retinue and litter to reach her as Livilla’s lurched up the street. The crowds were thick with her supporters, along with many others who were not officially aligned with her faction, yet who still looked upon her with awe. Unlike other patrician women Agrippina had no fear of the rabble. All around her faces beamed with affection and approval. No one spoke or called out to her, such was the respect she commanded. So when the strange words slipped inside her ear, she was surprised by them.

  ‘One would-be queen is one-eyed too until the truth gives comforts …’

  She turned around but no one was standing close enough to have spoken them. No one else had even heard them. When Sosia and Claudia reached her, she was pensive.

  ‘Livilla gives her support?’ Sosia asked.

  Agrippina nodded. ‘The truth gives comforts …’ she murmured.

  ‘What was that?’

  Agrippina felt as if she had just been on the verge of unveiling something, or perhaps she had already unveiled it, yet had somehow missed it, despite a ‘truth’ standing right in front of her. She had been distracted by something else. Was she herself the distraction?

  ‘Am I one-eyed?’ she asked her friends as they climbed into her litter.

  Sosia and Claudia cast quick looks at each other.

  ‘You are certainly driven,’ said Claudia, tactfully.

  Agrippina nodded. ‘As was my Germanicus.’ Yet she wondered if this was what had been meant.

  Little Boots swam with sleek, practised strokes to the edge of the chilled frigidarium pool and hung to the marble edge for a moment, looking over his shoulder to be sure it was really happening. When he knew with certainty that it was, he hoisted himself to the side and stood dripping in the cool, fresh air. A horrified bath slave, no older than Little Boots’s twelve years, stood gaping at the wall of the bath hall. He was the only other occupant who hadn’t fled.

  ‘Linen,’ said Little Boots, aware of the slave without looking at him.

  The slave stayed frozen.

  ‘Bring me linen.’ He turned to face the boy, showing eyes shot red with blood.

  The slave trembled and started to weep.

  ‘If you don’t bring linen to dry me right now –’

  The boy sprang forward, snatching at a pile of bath linens and knocking most of them into a puddle of water. He slipped as he ran to Little Boots, gashing his knee, but he righted himself in his terror and threw the length of fabric he carried at Little Boot’s back.

  ‘Dry me …’

  The slave sobbed with fear.

  ‘Don’t make me tell you again. You are a bath slave. I am a prince. You are nothing. I am all.’

  The wretched boy patted at Little Boots’s thin arms and shoulders. Little Boots walked around the perimeter of the pool, forcing the slave to stumble after him until Little Boots halted at the place that gave the best view. He stared with fascination into the depths of the cloudy water while the bath slave shut his eyes.

  ‘The others ran, but you stayed,’ Little Boots whispered to him. ‘Do you admire me for what I do? Are you impressed by it?’

  The boy was too terrified to do anything but nod.

  ‘Good. Then you are the sort of slave I’ll be wanting at Oxheads one day. An unshakable slave with courage and fortitude …’ His voice faded away. He was mesmerised by the water.

  Feeling sick to his guts, the bath slave sensed a flash of movement and turned to see me entering the frigidarium room. The look he gave me was a hopeless, desperate appeal and I noiselessly took the towel from him, pressing my hands to Little Boots’s back.

  ‘Domine … where is the eunuch Lygdus?’

  Little Boots lurched in fright and tore himself from my touch.

  ‘Where has he gone, domine?’

  ‘You made me do it! It’s all your fault, Iphicles!’ He sprinted naked across the room, rushing for the door before I could stop him.

  ‘Domine!’

  The bath slave threw himself into the freezing pool, gasping at the shock of it, before plunging beneath the surface. I saw then whom he meant to save. Lygdus lay still at the bottom. With a shout of horror I threw myself into the water and, together with the slave, heaved and strained to bring Lygdus to the surface. We dragged his bulk to the long row of steps and fell there, coughing and weeping, as Lygdus’s lifeless body lay inert, half in and half out of the chilly pool. I beat my fists on his chest, ordering him to live, until good sense gripped me and I remembered what I had done when I had once found Plancina in a lifeless state. I placed my mouth upon Lygdus’s slack lips, pinching closed his nose and forcing the air from my lungs into his. His chest rose and fell and I suppressed my panic, willing myself and the bath slave to remain calm while I fought to win back the life.

  At last the air rushed into Lygdus’s lungs on its own and he belched a torrent of cloudy water. Weeping with relief, I clung to him. ‘It was all a mistake,’ I told him. ‘The boy is excitable, irrational at times, but he has a good heart and he will learn to love you, Lygdus, just wait and see. He will learn to love you just like he loves me.’

  I found the courage to look into Lygdus’s eyes and found no trace of anger or accusation there. He just looked at me, seemingly without emotion at all.

  ‘Please believe me,’ I begged him. ‘Tell me you believe that it was all a mistake, just a silly boy’s play. Tell me that you know it to be true?’

  Lygdus nodded once, and that was all. Overjoyed, I told myself that he had done so with the utmost conviction, with a rigid faith in the word of Cybele that was almost, truly almost, as iron-hard as my own.

  The Ides of April

  AD 24

  Eleven months later: the war against

  the rebellious Numidian forces of

  Tacfarinas ends with his suicide in the

  forest of Auzea

  Screaming at the top of her lungs, Agrippina threw herself forward, her sword raised high above her head and her eyes blazing with all the hatred and fury she contained in her heart. But Flamma deflected her and she slipped on the tiles, knocking her head at the fountain’s edge.

  ‘Lady, please –’ I cried.

  ‘I said leave me!’ She was bruised and grazed from previous falls and fresh blood trickled from her temple.

  ‘But you’re injuring yourself.’

  ‘How does a man learn sword-craft?’ she shot at me.

  Watching, Nilla gave me a cold look for my slave’s petty concern and I saw that Burrus mirrored it. Chastened, I took my place next to my fellow slave Nymphomidia at the edge of the peristyle, feeling no less uneasy.

  ‘Once more,’ said Flamma.

  Agrippina sprang to her feet and rushed at the hulking gladiator, repeating her scream, hatred still firing in her eyes. She got a sword stroke in, and then another, before the gladiator deflected her once more and she crashed hard to the ground. Agrippina lay there, panting and dazed. I wanted only to stop this but the child Nilla’s fierce eyes were upon me, forcing me to keep silent.

  Flamma waited, watching Agrippina impassively. Slowly, she got to her feet and stood before him once more with an exultant look. The gladiator nodded then.

  ‘Is this what you claim
ed me for, Lady?’

  ‘What other use have you?’

  Flamma guffawed. ‘Well, you got two strokes in – your best effort yet.’

  She lunged at him without a sound, seizing the advantage of surprise. Her blade slashed his upper arm, and before he could respond she plucked a knife from her waist and nicked his thigh with it. The gladiator caught her under the ribs with his shield, lifting her feet from the ground. For a brief second their eyes connected, both registering amazement, but deep respect too, before Agrippina was thrown to the ground again. The fall left her winded and unable to draw breath. The noise she made was terrible to my ears as she tried to suck the air back into her lungs. I clenched my hands into fists, desperate to aid her somehow, but I knew it was pointless and I was very aware of Nilla’s eyes. At last Agrippina’s breath returned, but her strength was gone and she remained where she had fallen in the dust. Nilla moved to her and gently stroked her mother’s brow, whispering loving words.

  I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. ‘How long will this go on?’

  ‘Until I am dead,’ said Flamma. ‘That’s our agreement, and there’s no shame in it from where I’m standing.’

  I quaked at the huge man addressing me directly.

  ‘It will finish when the Lady has killed me – isn’t that so, Lady?’

  Agrippina’s eyes remained closed, but she managed to nod her head in the dust. Flamma began to dab at his flesh wounds with a linen rag moistened in water.

  ‘You will teach Nilla the same skills before that happens,’ Agrippina spoke from the ground.

  The gladiator looked up and met Nilla’s gaze. I saw the hesitation in his face. ‘She is too young for it.’

  ‘I am nine,’ said Nilla, without a trace of fear.

  He considered this for a moment and then nodded. ‘As you wish,’ he replied to Agrippina.

  Nymphomidia pushed Burrus forward slightly, so that he caught the gladiator’s attention. Long-limbed and ungainly, he was now the tallest in the courtyard apart from Flamma himself. But his build was still slim.

  ‘You will teach another one, too,’ said Agrippina from the ground, her eyes still closed. ‘You will teach this boy, Burrus.’