Nest of Vipers

Tiberius kicked him again.

' The third…'

He stared at the moaning haruspex.

' The third…'

Tiberius decided he'd been remiss in claiming to his nephew that Thrasyllus was never wrong anymore. Sometimes the fool soothsayer came out with things that couldn't be more absurd.

Lygdus seized the moment as soon as he spotted the vacant fuller's pot at the side of the road to the Palatine Hill. Breaking from Castor's interminable procession, he dashed to the front of the reeking laundry premises, where the earthenware pot stood beneath the sign that said 'Relieve yourself'. The fuller needed lakes of urine to bleach his clients' togae white, and Lygdus was happy to provide — but only when he had the pot to himself. Burdened with the shame of castration, Lygdus hid his tiny eunuch's penis behind his hand as he relieved himself. He was startled when another man joined him.

'Good thinking,' said Nero. 'You've got to take advantage of any pot you can find on these stupid processions — right, Lygdus? They stretch on for hours.'

The slave forgot himself and laughed, before remembering who and where he was. Nero hoisted up his toga and began adding his urine to Lygdus's in a strong, pungent jet.

'The fuller won't like my piss very much,' Nero said. 'Too much wine inside me — they reckon it makes it useless for washing clothes. It doesn't bleach. That's why they never put these pots outside taverns.'

Lygdus tried to continue concealing himself behind his hands but it was impossible.

'We won't tell him though, will we?' said Nero. 'Poor old fuller.'

'No, domine.'

'Another secret we'll keep to ourselves.'

Lygdus met his young master's eye. There was no threat behind the statement, no kind of warning in his face — only trust and amusement. Lygdus had never betrayed what had taken place that night in the entrance hall, and Nero was very aware of it. To Lygdus's mortification, Nero cast his eyes at Lygdus's undeveloped penis.

'It must have been painful, what they did to you.'

Lygdus flushed red and hurriedly tucked himself away, still dripping inside his loincloth, pulling down his tunica to cover himself.

'I'm sorry,' said Nero, and Lygdus saw that he was. 'I didn't mean to embarrass you. I think it's disgusting what they did to you — it's degenerate. That sort of thing belongs in the East, not here in Rome. It's an insult to the Fathers. And when I get a say in these matters I'm going to ban it. What do you think of that?'

'It… it was the domina Livilla's doing,' Lygdus whispered.

Nero frowned. 'Well, it wasn't your dominus Castor's orders — did you know that? Bitch Aunt Livilla did it to you without my uncle Castor even knowing about it.'

Lygdus just stared at this candid revelation.

'He was livid when he found out,' said Nero. 'Hit the roof about it. I shouldn't tell you this, but he's never stopped feeling guilty about it either. It's why he gave you such a cushy job washing all our feet.'

Lygdus felt like he was living in a dream. A young dominus was willingly sharing a confidence with him. This was something he had never even known was possible between a master and slave.

'I shouldn't tell you this either,' said Nero, lowering his voice even further as he shook himself off at the pot, 'but you could milk that guilt for all it's worth with my uncle. He likes you an awful lot, Lygdus.'

The eunuch's face was a picture of amazement and Nero laughed. 'Don't look so surprised! I like you too — why wouldn't I? Stick with my uncle and me and you won't go wrong. Think about it. Castor's going to be Emperor one day. One day soon, I'd say.'

Lygdus looked strange as he rejoined me on the procession route. I asked him what was wrong.

'Nothing,' he replied. 'Just…'

I swished a long fan across my resplendent domina 's face as she swayed high above us in her throne. 'Just what?'

'Just that… Sometimes they're capable of being kind, aren't they? The masters…'

'Sometimes, yes — but not very often, in my experience.' I swished the fan again and saw that Livia's eyes were upon us. It seemed like a good moment to boost Lygdus's resolve. 'When the second king is on the throne,' I whispered, 'you and I will know more kindness than we can imagine, Lygdus. Just you wait and see.'

Lygdus tried to imagine how much kindness that could possibly be, given that the kindness he just experienced — mixing his piss with a master's in the fuller's pot — was already more kindness than he thought had existed on this earth.

'Just wait,' I whispered. 'The second king will see us living like gods.'

'You told me you're a god already, Iphicles.'

'Well, yes,' I said. 'A god who serves his goddess closely. But you must admit I don't live like one.'

Lygdus conceded this was true.

'These things will change. Just keep it up with the footbaths,' I whispered. 'Everything is going exactly to plan.'

Lygdus nodded obediently. Yet his eyes, as he did so, were not on me but on Nero, far ahead at the front of the procession with Castor, the Emperor's chosen heir.

The Nones of March

AD 22

One week later: Lucius Ennius, a wealthy equestrian, is charged with treason for melting down a silver statue of the Emperor to use as plate

The bewildered steward stared open-mouthed at the gesturing, jabbering man who clung to the doorway for support, raving like a madman trying to make a fantastical story seem real.

'He is patrician,' the nomenclator slave at the steward's shoulder whispered as they both stared at the man. 'The accent suggests it — and it suggests that he's from Rome, as well.'

Claudius pointed wildly into the sumptuous rooms behind them, stammering on.

'You've never seen this man before?' the steward whispered back to his colleague.

The nomenclator shook his head. 'It's my job to remember names for the dominus — and I've never seen this poor bastard in my life.'

Claudius's stammer intensified, the desperation stark in his face.

'Give him some watered wine,' ordered the steward.

The nomenclator thrust a cup into Claudius's hand, but he shook so much that it slipped from his grip and clattered to the tiles.

'He's having a fit,' said the steward. 'I saw things like this in the wars.'

'Will it kill him?' said the nomenclator in alarm.

The steward stepped forward and punched Claudius squarely in the eye. 'Not now it won't.'

Claudius screamed and threw his hands up to protect himself, before falling into an abrupt and fearful silence.

The two slaves raised their eyebrows at one another and then addressed Claudius slowly and deliberately, as they would a child. 'The admiral, our master, is not home, domine.'

'Not him I want to see…' Claudius managed to gasp, his breath jagged in his chest as he tried to pull himself together.

'Who, then?'

'The blinding love… the rarest of birds…'

The slaves cast shocked looks at each other.

'Must meet her… it's why I've come… it's been foretold.'

'But how do you even know about her…?' asked the steward in astonishment.

'Thrasyllus foretold… and today is Mercury…'

Looks of fear came to the servants' faces. 'Our master is not home,' the nomenclator said hurriedly again. 'He is out at sea. Please go now, domine.'

'No,' stammered Claudius. 'I must meet her… It's why I've come… for the rarest of birds…'

'Who are you?' demanded the steward.

'Tiberius Claudius Nero Germanicus,' Claudius spat out in a rush. 'Nephew of the Emperor.'

The two slaves went white. Then they threw themselves onto the floor of the entrance hall. 'Spare us, domine!'

Claudius broke wind in his hurry, staggering past the prostrate servants into the middle of the admiral's exquisite atrium. 'Where is she?' he shouted into the void. 'Let me see my precious child!'