Nero

'That's bad enough!'

'Oh, I agree. Only…'There was a movement on the stairs. Silia reappeared carrying a light travelling cloak.

'Titus, I've had a lovely idea,' she said. 'Why doesn't Junia come with us?'

'I don't see why not.' It would certainly take the girl out of herself. 'Marsus won't mind, I'm sure.' Marsus was the friend with the villa.

'Junia, dear? You haven't any other commitments, have you?'

'No. Only Octavia might — '

'Darling, you are not staying behind just to mope!' I stood up and helped Silia on with the cloak.

'I quite agree, Titus,' Silia said. 'Octavia will be fine, dear. Besides, Tibur's beautiful at this time of year, and from what Titus has told me his friend is an absolute pussy-cat.'

I certainly hadn't said anything of the sort. Marsus was my ex-banker, a dry old stick of seventy, ugly as sin, and possessed of all the conversational skills of a block of marble. A pussy-cat he was anything but. However, I wasn't going to contradict Silia in such a good cause. Junia would find out for herself.

'All right.' A smile lit her broad face for the first time. 'If you're certain he won't throw me out. Just let me nip back home and put my little bag together.'

Ah, me. One learns by experience. I sent a slave off to cancel the original arrangement and order the biggest coach he could get, for mid-afternoon.

34

Lucius had the good sense to keep his remarriage low-key. Silia and I were invited to the private ceremony, of course. So was Junia, but she didn't go.

Lucius and Poppaea greeted the guests in the formal hallway before the reception room itself where the ceremony would take place. The bridegroom was more gorgeously dressed — and wore more make-up — than the bride.

I'd thought long and hard about a wedding present; what, after all, can you give the man who literally has everything? Finally the problem had solved itself when I was offered an interesting piece of historical erotica, an Egyptian papyrus dating back to before the first Ptolemy and detailing no fewer than ninety-seven coital positions for couples and trios of the same and mixed sexes. Lucius was delighted.

'We'll give it to Chaeremon to translate, Titus,' he said.

'Do you think he's up to it?' I didn't mean academically: Chaeremon was another of Lucius's ex-tutors, a former professor at the University of Alexandria and an expert in Old Egyptian esoteric lore. He was in his eighties, and paralysed down one side.

'But that's the whole point, dear!' He giggled. 'The shock'll finish the old satyr.'

I gave Poppaea a piece of jewellery from the same source: an ornamental headdress made up of hundreds of thin gold plates. It had come, my agent told me, from the tomb of a queen who'd ruled before the Greeks took Troy. I thought she'd like it, but she didn't. In fact she was unwilling to touch it.

'Oh, don't be silly, Poppy! It's lovely!' Lucius kissed her on the cheek, then turned to me. 'She's terribly superstitious, didn't you know? She thinks the thing might have a curse on it. Don't you, petal?'

'It came from a grave. An Egyptian grave.' Poppaea was scowling at me. 'The Egyptians know about curses.'

'I shouldn't worry, my dear,' I said lightly. 'The man I bought it from is seventy-five, has four mistresses and owns the biggest house in Alexandria next to the palace. If there ever was a curse it's worn off long since.'

'Curses don't wear off. Ever.' She motioned to a slave-girl, who took the thing away and put it with the growing pile of other presents. 'Thank you for the thought, Petronius. It was very much…in character.'

I inclined my head and joined Silia who was already in the reception room.

'Well, that went down like a fart at a funeral,' I said.

'What did, dear?' She handed me a cup of wine.

'Poppaea's present. She hated it.'

Silia sniffed. 'It serves you right for trying to ingratiate yourself. You know she doesn't like you. You ought to have given her a nice necklace and saved yourself the trouble.'

'What trouble's that, Petronius?' It was Tigellinus. He was standing with his back to us talking to Marius Celsus the consul. I noticed that Celsus moved away pretty sharply as soon as Tiggy transferred his attention elsewhere and joined a tight knot of whispering purple-stripers in the corner.

'Oh, nothing serious,' I said blandly.

'Good.' He glanced briefly over his shoulder at the group in the corner and smiled, drawing his lips back from perfect white teeth. 'Silia, lover! You're looking good enough to eat, as usual.'

'Thank you, Tigellinus.' Silia was cool. 'I didn't know you included cannibalism among your other accomplishments.'

'Ouch.' Tigellinus winced and smiled. 'Straight in the balls. That's what I admire about you upper-class bitches. You've got the put-down to a fine art.'

'It does take practice, naturally,' Silia said. 'And a certain amount of style.'

'You see what I mean, Titus?' Tigellinus grinned at me. He was quite unperturbed. 'So Poppy didn't like your little present? What a shame. I could've told you if you'd asked me. The poor girl's even careful which sandal she puts on first when she gets out of bed in the mornings.' He mimed consternation. 'Oh, my, what have I said? And on this day of all days!'

'Perhaps the headdress was a bad choice.' I was more careful about antagonising the emperor's closest confidant than, obviously, Silia was. 'I knew the empress was superstitious, but not to that degree. The thing hasn't seen the inside of a tomb for a hundred years.'

'Oh, that wouldn't matter to Poppy. She's a sucker for the mysteries of the east. Not like Octavia. Now she is a strictly practical little madam.'

'Really?' Silia said frostily.

Tigellinus had raised his voice on Poppaea's predecessor's name; quite intentionally, because he looked round and smiled into the sudden hush. A heartbeat later the interrupted conversations around us resumed at a lower pitch, as if everyone were listening.

'Really,' he said.

'I wouldn't know anything about that.' I raised my own voice: it wouldn't do for Tigellinus to think I was frightened of the name. 'I've never met Octavia.'

He laughed. 'That makes sense. She wouldn't let you get within twenty yards. Me neither. Although' — he became ponderously confidential, and his arm went round Silia's shoulders — 'I could tell you some stories about that little ice-maiden you wouldn't believe!'

'I'm sure you could,' Silia said in her normal voice, removing the arm.

Tigellinus ignored her. His mouth was a bare inch from my ear. Behind him I could see at least four people watching us out of the corners of their eyes and not saying much themselves.

'The rumour is, all this virtuous Roman matron stuff's shit,' he murmured. 'Our sweet little Octavia's been dropping her pants in secret for months.'

'Really?' I raised my wine-cup so he couldn't see my expression. 'You're quite right, of course.'

He looked puzzled. 'What d'you mean, I'm quite right?'

'About my not believing your stories, my dear.'

Silia smiled. Tigellinus scowled.

'It's a fact,' he said. 'And guess who the lucky man is?'

'You, darling?'

I knew that baiting the oily-skinned bastard was stupid, but I couldn't help myself. He was trying to control his temper and not doing too well.

'I told you, Petronius, she's got no taste. She wouldn't let me near her honey-pot in a million years. This is the most unlikely candidate you could ever think of.'

'Amaze me.'

He grinned and glanced over his shoulder. The people around us — I could see at least a dozen whose names were prominent in politics and society — had given up the pretence and were frankly eavesdropping. 'No. No, I've said enough. You'll find out in time. And if you should want to try your luck, then you go ahead. Now the thaw's on and the pipe's cracked she may appreciate another plumber.'