Nest of Vipers

'It's the last of anything for you, cocksucker.'

The ugly slave's corpse spilled into the Tiber along with the rest of the filth from the cloaca maxima. There it joined the scores of other dead — masters and slaves, magistrates and criminals, gladiators and mangons, prostitutes and praetors — all those in Rome who had, in any way, however miniscule, profited from Sejanus's reign.

Fearful of the screams from the streets, but forbidden to look out to determine what was causing them, Tiberia stood timidly at the door to her grandmother's room. Antonia, supervising the packing of her possessions, didn't see the girl.

'Grandmother?'

Antonia acknowledged her but didn't stop. 'So much to do, child. And time so precious.'

'Grandmother, please — '

Antonia saw the confusion in Livilla's daughter's face and came over at once, thinking she knew what troubled her. 'We have talked of this, Tiberia,' she said, kissing her granddaughter, 'and I know how it pains you, but the Emperor needs me.'

'Yes, I know,' Tiberia tried to say.

'I can only stay in Rome for as long as it takes me to pack up my household. Then I must return to Capri permanently. My guidance is needed. The Emperor's hand is so burdened.'

'Yes, Grandmother, I understand everything, and I think it is so noble what you are doing for Rome.'

Antonia glowed. 'Thank you, child.'

'That is not why I'm here. Two women have come to the house to see you.'

'I have visitors?'

'They have come alone through the streets, at great risk to themselves, with all this… disorder going on.'

'They are unescorted?' Antonia was wary. 'They sound like lowborn women. Tell the steward to send them away.'

'One has a patrician's voice, and the other is well-spoken too. They are not rabble.'

'Then what are their names?'

'They would not say.'

'Then what makes them think I will see them? Who on earth are these women?'

Tiberia wished she could rub the unsettling image of the visitors from her mind. 'The patrician woman, she has no hands, Grandmother,' she whispered. 'And the other… well, she cannot see.'

Something stirred Antonia's recognition. 'Did they say what they want?'

'They claim they have something of urgent importance to tell you.'

From the street below came the sound of renewed screaming. Another name on the list had been found by the mob. 'Send them to me,' said Antonia, blocking out the noise.

When the packing slaves had been dismissed and Plancina and Apicata had been admitted to Antonia's presence, the two visitors bowed.

Antonia couldn't take her eyes from the scarred stumps of Plancina's wrists.

'You remember me, Antonia?'

'Of course.' She gathered her dignity, forcing herself to look Plancina in the eye. 'Your late husband was tried for murdering Germanicus, my son.'

'He was blackmailed to murder him,' said Plancina, sidestepping the truth that it was she who had been coerced into the crime. 'Blackmailed by Sejanus and then forced into suicide.'

Antonia said nothing, but the events of recent weeks had disposed her to believe this.

'And here is Apicata,' Plancina said, pushing forward the sightless woman within whose arm she had threaded her own. 'She is Sejanus's discarded wife.'

'I know who she is,' Antonia said.

'Then did you know your daughter Livilla is Sejanus's secret lover?'

Antonia flushed with shame. 'I have learned of it.'

Outside the door, where she eavesdropped without being seen, Tiberia threw a hand to her lips, her shocked eyes wide.

'Livilla is his victim, too,' Antonia pleaded, 'deceived like a child that she was loved by such a monster. I fear for her life if the truth gets out. People won't forgive such foolish naivety in a highborn woman.'

Antonia waited for the price of silence to be named.

'I want justice.' Apicata spoke her first words. 'Money has no use to me, Lady.'

'You want justice?'

'And perhaps you'll want it too, when you learn the extent of Livilla's depravity in the name of her passion.'

Antonia was frightened now. 'What haven't I been told?'

'Your Livilla had Castor poisoned.'

Tiberia cried out in shock, then rushed into the room when she heard her grandmother collapse. Cradling Antonia's head in her hands, Tiberia faced the two visitors as they gave their story of how her mother had conspired to kill her beloved father with poisoned footbath water. Nothing was more damning in hindsight than Castor's final words. ' My wife… ' Tiberia had believed they were words of love. Now she knew better. They were an accusation.

'Justice will be done for my mother's crimes,' the girl said coldly. 'I promise it. And I will personally ensure it.'

The Kalends of November

AD 31

Two weeks later: forty-four speeches are delivered in the Senate about Livilla's punishment. A few are prompted by anxiety, but most by routine servility

A picata stole away at dawn from the house she and Plancina shared with Martina, neglecting to tell either friend what she intended. She had travelled the Gemonian Stairs so often that she knew every inch of them, providing a pair of hands for Plancina while her friend provided the eyes. Apicata felt less confident alone, as she would be this time, but she would not let this deter her.

She found the way to the stairs easily enough, picking her path along the familiar streets that led towards the Forum. She might have been delayed if anyone had recognised her, but no one did. Even if someone had, there was no reason to fear it. So notorious was the story of her ill-treatment at her husband's hands that she was seen by Rome as another of his victims. That she had actively schemed for Germanicus's death before her fall had not emerged.

When Apicata reached the base of the Gemonian Stairs, she felt the rotting remains of the traitors near her feet. None were fresh. Some were months old or more. All of them she and Plancina had already picked over on earlier occasions. But ingredients were not what she was here for. With her days spent in silence in front of the fire, Apicata's friends imagined she was losing herself in dreams. They were wrong. She depended so much more upon her remaining senses and lived wholly in wakefulness, her ears sharply trained on the talk of the people passing in the street. This was how she learned she must return to the steps.

Apicata tilted her nose to the wind. The street talk had been accurate. Amid the rot and decay she smelled something fresh. The Gemonian Stairs had seen one final traitor dragged by the hook. Apicata took to the steps with pace, her hands feeling the stones in front as she made the ascent. The dogs knew her well enough by now not to be threatened and allowed her to pass. She flung bones from her path as she ascended towards the Arx.

'I'm coming for you,' she whispered. 'Prepare yourself.'

Her hand met wetness on the stone. She held her fingers to her nose and sniffed. Fresh blood, still warm. She advanced more slowly, one step, then another. She touched the flesh of a hand and gasped. The hand curled, still alive, gripping her fingers.

She fell forward, cradling Sejanus in her arms. 'It is me. I am here for you, my love.'

His throat had been crushed, but not enough to rob him of breath for his final moments. Sejanus lay where the hook had dragged him; he felt the soft hand in his and heard the words that were said to him.

'Forgive me… Please, forgive me for what I have done to you.'

The dawning sun was in his eyes when he opened them. It was not Apicata he saw haloed by the rays, but someone else: his lifelong love, whose name they had evoked when they hooked him. His lips mouthed the words, 'I forgive you for it. I love you.'

Tears dripped upon his cheeks. Lips pressed themselves to his. He took them humbly.

'They're the only words I have ever wanted from you.'