Nero

'Thank you.' He smiled and ducked his head. 'Oh, I'd like to win, of course, but I'd want to do it fair and square. And you see as emperor I'd never know.'

'Being emperor does have its advantages.' I shouldn't be saying this, but I suddenly felt a strange affection, very close to pity, for the young man. 'You can be a force for good.'

'I knew you'd understand!' He was on his feet. 'Titus, that is so right! That's exactly what I want, more than anything else! To drag this rotten, barbaric city out of the mud and give it a soul!'

I felt myself agreeing. Lucius had put his finger on the problem. That, I'd always felt, was precisely the trouble with Rome: she was red-necked and crass, she had power without subtlety. If she had a soul at all it was weighed down with rods and axes and money-boxes. For a moment I found myself totally and unconditionally on Lucius's side.

It was a pity he was mad.

There was a knock on the door, and Acte came in.

I'm sorry,' she said. 'I thought I heard shouting.' She looked at me, anxious, one eyebrow slightly raised. 'Is everything all right?'

'The emperor's been treating me to a private recital.' I kept my face straight.

Lucius laughed. 'You utter pig! You said you liked it!'

'I did.'

'He is good, isn't he?' Acte said proudly. Lucius hugged her and kissed the top of her head. 'Admit it, Titus!'

'Oh, he's excellent. Too good for an emperor.'

'Haven't I always said so?' Acte reached over for the lyre and put it in Lucius's hands. 'Again, dear, for me. Please.'

It was late when I got back home. I had half a dozen slaves with me, plus three torch-boys, so if there were any of the pseudo-Neros around they wisely decided to leave me alone.

I dreamed that night that Lucius was sawing me in half, from crown to toe. The dreadful thing was, that in the dream I didn't know whether to be glad or sorry.

18

I got to know Lucius well, and certainly much better than I wanted to, over the next eighteen months. I also saw far too much of Seneca, who clearly considered it his moral duty to save my soul while I was helping him save Lucius's. Neither of us succeeded: mine had a rooted aversion to being taken to task by a sententious old bore who saw everyone's failings but his own, and Lucius's had as many sides to it as a Parthian envoy has faces.

That particular fact was indisputable. Seen from close up the poor lad was a bigger mess than I would have believed possible. Keeping him on the right side of sanity, for his own sake and for Rome's, was an uphill struggle. Nevertheless we could have done it, I think, if it hadn't been for the monumental stupidity of Otho.

Well, well, that's unfair. No doubt Poppaea Sabina would have got what she wanted in the end without Otho's kiss-and-tell bragging; but we really should have seen what was coming. As it was, by the time even Acte knew Lucius was smitten with darling Poppy and had summoned us to the palace, it was too late to mend matters.

Acte herself, of course, was furious.

Her room was a shambles: chairs overturned, crockery smashed, the dressmaker's dummy tipped over against the wall. The girl Chryse who had shown us in had already fled white-faced.

'She's a bitch!' I'd never seen Acte angry, and it was frightening. 'A total, fucking, shit-faced bitch!'

Crash went another vase as it smashed against the door a foot from my head. I ducked in reflex.

'Do calm down, dear.' Silia hadn't moved. She brushed the single stool that had remained upright clear of debris and sat down. 'It's not the end of the world.'

'Oh, yes?' Acte stared at her, then clenched her fist and banged it hard against the wall. 'I should've known she was after Lucius when she married Otho! Who the fuck would let that knock-kneed balding effeminate prat into them unless they had other plans for their maggoty cunt?'

I winced. She was quite right in her description of Otho, of course,but still…

Moving very deliberately, Silia stood up again, stepped towards her and slapped her hard on the side of the head. The two women stood glaring at each other for a long time. Then, all at once, Acte collapsed sobbing against the work-bench.

'Find us a flask of wine, Titus,' Silia said. 'And take your time about bringing it, please.'

I left, hurriedly.

When I opened the door again later with the tray they were sitting side by side on the bench. Acte was still sobbing, with Silia's arm round her shoulders, but at least the air was clear of flying flowerpots. Silently I poured and handed Silia the cup. Acte drank the neat wine down in two swallows.

'You're all right now?' I asked.

She nodded. 'I'm sorry, Titus.'

'Don't be, darling. It was an education.'

'I meant every word. Poppaea's a bitch.'

'So I gathered.' I righted an overturned stool and sat down. 'Apart from that obvious fact, what exactly has happened? All your messenger said was that you wanted us to come immediately.'

'Lucius has invited Otho's wife to be his guest here at the palace,' Silia said. 'Indefinitely.'

'Jupiter!' I suppose I'd guessed as much already, reading between the extremely pungent lines which had greeted us as we came in, but the raw statement still came as a shock. Lucius had talked about Poppaea, of course, and Otho was for ever boasting of his new wife's beauty and sexual talents, but I hadn't expected things to go this far. 'What about Otho?'

'Lucius is sending him to Lusitania.' Acte took the wine jug from me and poured herself another cup. 'As governor.'

'Poor Lusitanians. So Poppaea's to be an official mistress?'

'Not yet. But it's not for want of trying on her side.'

I frowned. I knew Poppaea, by reputation at least, and she was another Agrippina in embryo. If she had her claws into Lucius then we were in very deep trouble. 'The man's a fool,' I said. 'We've helped him get rid of one predatory female and he goes and saddles himself with another. I mean, honestly, darling!'

'It's not his fault.' Edged to the sidelines or not, Acte still rushed to Lucius's defence automatically. 'It's her. Poor Lucius can't help himself. She's a stunner, a real stunner and' — she blushed and lowered her eyes — 'she's good in bed. Very good. He likes that.'

True enough. We'd had many interesting and informative chats over the past few months, Lucius and I; his sexual tastes were refreshingly eclectic, albeit gross even by my generous standards. And from what Otho told us Poppaea Sabina was both energetic and inventive.

'Does Seneca know?' Not that the old man could do much directly, even if he wanted to.'Otho told him. He's very upset. Otho, I mean.'

'So I would imagine. It can't be easy, being told to trot off to Lusitania just so the emperor can screw your wife.'

'Titus, this isn't funny!' Silia snapped.

'I'm sorry, dear. You're quite right.' I poured a cup of wine and added water from a jug on the table that had miraculously escaped destruction. 'So what does Seneca advise?'

Acte picked up a scrap of material from the bench — it looked to me like Coan silk — and blew her nose loudly. The wine seemed to be doing its work, and she was almost her usual feisty self.

'I don't know. He looked in earlier but' — she indicated the room — 'he didn't stay.'

I laughed. I could imagine Seneca's jowly, horrified face peeping round the door while Acte vented her feelings. A pity she hadn't slugged the old goat with a wine jug.

'Perhaps you should talk to him, Titus,' Silia said. 'Work out some mutual plan.'

'Me? Why the hell me?'

'Why not?'

I felt a stand had to be made somewhere, and the sooner the better. Some things were being taken far too much for granted.

'Because, darling, unfortunate though the situation is it's really not my concern. I contracted to keep Lucius's mind off politics, yes, but not to interfere in his sex life.'