With an animal roar Vespasian tightened his grip on Livilla’s hair and pulled back his right fist, causing Livilla to go limp in submission; a look of terror filled her eyes. Vespasian pulled her upright by the hair, looked at her in blind fury and spat in her face; with a rolling snarl of hatred he slammed his fist into her full lips. Blood exploded from her, covering her face and splattering his as his blow split her lips in several places and shattered her front teeth. He let her drop and she crumpled, howling, to the floor; savagely kicking her belly in the hope that she might be pregnant, he stepped over her as Paetus collapsed slowly onto his back.
Kneeling down, he lifted his friend’s head in his hand; his skin was waxen and pallid.
Paetus looked up at him with fading eyes. ‘Bit of mess, eh, old chap,’ he whispered. ‘Keep an eye on young Lucius for me, won’t you?’
‘I will, my friend,’ Vespasian replied with tears welling up in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Silly me, I thought that she was just a woman.’ The breath left him in a slow rattle and his eyes glazed over. Vespasian laid Paetus’ head down and passed the palm of his hand over his face to close his eyelids.
‘Have some of your men guard his body until his wife comes to claim it, centurion,’ he ordered, ‘then follow me and bring that bitch with you.’
Vespasian stepped out into the warm sun and descended the steps with Livilla, bloodied, face swollen, moaning, walking unaided behind him, escorted by the centurion and four of his men. His eyes were hard and set in a fixed stare as he tried to control himself; all he wanted to do was to rip Livilla’s throat out with his teeth. How could Tiberius have been so merciful towards her?
‘Livilla!’ shrieked a shrill female voice from across the street.
Apicata stood behind the screening century of the Urban Cohort brandishing a long, thin-bladed knife. Her clothes were in tatters and her cheeks and arms were covered in fresh, deep scratch marks; blood lined her fingernails.
‘Livilla, look at me, you Gorgon’s miscarriage!’
Livilla looked up and focused through puffy eyes.
‘I did this to you, Livilla,’ Apicata screamed triumphantly. ‘It was me. I wrote to Tiberius. I told him how you got the poison from your physician Eudemus, and how Drusus’ body slave Lygdus administered it. They were both tortured and confirmed it.’ She cackled hysterically and waved the dagger at Livilla. ‘You took my husband and caused the death of my son and now they’ve taken my other two children from me, but I don’t care, Livilla, I don’t care because I’ve got you — you’re finished, Livilla, finished! And this is what I think of you.’
She lifted the knife above her head, placed both hands on the hilt and, with another high-pitched scream, forced the blade down and under her lower rib; she convulsed and doubled up. Then she lifted her face to Livilla, blood seeping from the corners of her mouth and her nostrils.
‘This is what awaits you!’ she howled and, with a look of wideeyed, manic concentration, she forced the blade up into her heart and died without another sound.
Gaius was waiting for Vespasian in Antonia’s atrium looking agitated.
‘Where’s Paetus?’ he asked as Vespasian stepped through the door.
Vespasian made no reply. One look at his expression and a quick glance at Livilla’s ruined face was enough to tell the story.
‘Oh, I see,’ Gaius mumbled. ‘I’m very sorry, dear boy.’
Vespasian nodded in acknowledgement as Livilla was led past him, now visibly shaking. Vespasian stared at her with hatred. ‘She deserves to die, uncle, but she’ll only get banished to live out her days on some island. No mother would order the death of her child.’
‘This is an unnatural day,’ Gaius said, almost apologetically. ‘I have to go back to the Senate. I’m afraid you’re going to have to join me once you’ve delivered Livilla to Antonia.’
‘As you wish, Uncle,’ Vespasian replied numbly. ‘What’s happening now?’
‘It’s rather unpleasant but I can’t see how it can be avoided,’ Gaius said, shaking his head and walking out.
‘Bring her this way,’ Pallas said, appearing through the columns at the far end of the atrium. ‘The Lady Antonia is waiting.’
‘Thank you, centurion.’ Vespasian walked forward and took hold of Livilla’s arm. ‘I can manage her now. Wait for me outside.’
Vespasian, leading Livilla, followed Pallas through the house until they came to the door that led down to Antonia’s private prison where Rhoteces and Secundus had been incarcerated. Pallas pushed it open and descended the damp stone steps.
Livilla started to struggle as she caught the scent of fear and desperation that wafted up from the forbidding, dank corridor below. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she shrieked, squirming in Vespasian’s strong grip.
‘To see your mother, bitch,’ he growled, pushing her through the door.
Antonia was waiting for them in the low corridor outside what had been Rhoteces’ cell.
‘That it has come to this’, she said, shaking her head and regarding her daughter with cold, menacing eyes, ‘grieves me more than you will ever know, Livilla.’
‘Mother, Mother, please,’ Livilla cried, breaking away from Vespasian and running to kneel at Antonia’s feet and clasping her knees. ‘Please, Mother, forgive me.’
With a sharp crack Antonia slapped her daughter across her broken face. ‘Forgive you? You, who killed your own husband; you, who would have tortured Caenis, the daughter I should have had, had I not intervened; you, who were prepared to see your own son die to achieve your aims. You ask me for forgiveness?’
‘I beg you, Mummy.’
‘Don’t you dare be familiar with me, whore!’ Antonia screamed, pulling away from Livilla’s grasp. ‘There is no love between us any more, nor will there ever be again.’ She swung open the door of the cell. ‘Get in there.’
Meekly, Livilla obeyed and crawled whimpering into the fetid cell. Antonia pulled the door shut behind her and locked it. She threw the key to Pallas.
‘Keep it, Pallas. Don’t give it back to me even if I beg you to; Vespasian is your witness to my order,’ she commanded, pulling a stool in front of the door and sitting down.
‘What are you going to do, domina?’ Vespasian asked.
Antonia folded her hands on her lap. ‘What I must. The Emperor lost his only son because of my daughter. Livilla was prepared to sit by while her son died through poison; so, to end it, I will do the same. Bring me food and water once a day, Pallas; I will sit here and wait for my daughter to die.’
At these words a long screech erupted from the cell and fists pounded at the door.
Vespasian stepped forward. ‘But domina, to kill one’s own child goes against all tha…’ Pallas’ hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him and pulling him back. Vespasian turned to face him and saw for the first time an expression written over the Greek’s normally neutral face: anger.
‘It shall be as you command, mistress,’ Pallas articulated deliberately whilst staring into Vespasian’s eyes. He turned and pulled Vespasian back up the steps. As they neared the top Vespasian glanced back. Antonia sat, hands clasped in her lap, impervious to the cries of her daughter behind her, staring fixedly at the smoke-blackened wall.
Pallas escorted Vespasian back through the house as Livilla’s screams echoed around the corridors.