Nero was under the superstitious impression that the public and private sacrifices had not been sufficient to appease the gods and save his voice. The gods had also demantled his daughter. This strengthened his conviction that it was intended that he should become the greatest artist of his time, and this lessened his grief.
The shaken Senate immediately bestowed the rank of goddess on Claudia Augusta, with the accompanying cushion at her funeral. They also decided to build a temple in her honor and formed a special pontifex priesthood for the purpose. Nero was secretly convinced that it was in fact his voice which was to be worshiped in the new temple and that the sacrifices would make his voice even finer.
So the new priesthood had a special secret ritual, over and above the official sacrifices, which was not allowed to be revealed to outsiders. Nero’s voice did in fact become much stronger, just as it had after Agrippina’s death, and it now sounded both resonant and as sweet as honey so that audiences were deeply moved. I myself was not deeply moved when I heard him, but I am just repeating what more knowledgeable judges than I assured him.
Nero put on weight and let his cheeks and chin fill out when he was told that the strongest tenor voices needed plenty of flesh on the bones to withstand the strain of singing. Poppaea was only too pleased that he spent his time on singing exercises rather than on more dissolute activities.
After the death of his daughter, Nero concentrated all winter on training his voice, to the extent that matters of State became merely an unnecessary worry to him. He neglected the meetings of the Senate because he was afraid of catching cold on the icy floor of the Curia. When he arrived at a meeting, he came with his feet wrapped in wool and usually on foot, and he always rose humbly from his place when the Consul addressed him. After his first sneeze, he left hurriedly, leaving important matters to be settled in the Senate committees.
One day during the winter, shortly before the feast of Saturnalia, Claudia said that she must see me, for she had an important matter to discuss which was for my ears alone. When I had completed my daily business with my clients and freedmen, I allowed her to come into my room, fearing that once again she was going to start talking about repentance and Christian baptism.
But Claudia was wringing her hands.
“Oh, Minutus,” she wailed, “I am prey to contending feelings. I am flung hither and thither and feel like a piece of chewed string. I’ve done something which I’ve not dared tell you about. But look at me first. Do you think I have changed in any way?”
To be honest, she had at times been so repugnant to me because of her intolerable chatter and her Christian knowingness, that I had not even wanted to look at her. But warmed by her submissiveness, I now looked at her a little more closely and saw to my surprise that the sunburn from her time as a slave had vanished from her soft-skinned face. She was well dressed and her hair was set in the latest Greek fashion.
I clapped my hands together in surprise and cried with genuine flattery, “You look like the most noble of Roman ladies with your figure and fine posture. I suspect you’ve been bathing your face in ass’s milk in secret.”
Claudia flushed deeply.
“It’s not from vanity that I’ve looked after my appearance,” she said hurriedly, “but because you have entrusted me with your large household. Modesty and unpretentiousness are a woman’s best adornment, but your clients and the meat traders of the Basilica don’t wish to believe that. What I meant was, do you see any resemblance to Emperor Claudius in my face?”
“No, of course not,” I said at once, to calm her. “You needn’t worry about that. Old man Claudius’ looks were nothing to boast about. But you’ve grown into a beautiful woman, especially now you’ve had your eyebrows plucked.”
Claudia was obviously disappointed by my words.
“You’re wrong, I’m sure,” she said sullenly. “Aunt Paulina and I have secretly been to-see my younger half sister, Antonia, out of pity for her lonely existence. Claudius had her first husband murdered and Nero her second, so no one dares to be seen with her now she has returned from Massilia. Her sufferings have taught her to see things from another viewpoint now. She offered us mead and fruit tart and gave me a gold hairnet. As things are now, she would perhaps be prepared to acknowledge me as her legal sister. She and I are the only genuine Clau-dians left.”
I was appalled when I saw that because of her feminine ambitions she was still attached to her imaginary vanities. She looked at me with her strangely glowing eyes, sighing deeply so that her full bosom rose, and then she seized my hand in both hers so I backed away in alarm.
“What is it you really want, unhappy Claudia?” I asked.
“Minutus,” she said, “you must know yourself that your life cannot go on as hitherto. Your marriage to Sabina is no real marriage. You are stupid if you’ve not grasped that. All Rome laughs at it. In your youth you made a certain promise to me. Now you are a grown man, the age difference between us is no longer as great as it seemed then. In fact it is scarcely noticeable. Minutus, you must separate from Sabina for your own standing’s sake.”
I felt like a wild animal trapped in a corner of the cage and threatened with red-hot irons.
“You can’t be serious,” I protested. “The Christian superstition must have confused your head. I’ve been afraid of this for a long time.”
Claudia stared at me. “A Christian must eschew all surface life. But Jesus of Nazareth himself is supposed to have said that a man who looks at a woman with desire commits adultery with her in his heart. I heard that quite recently. This knowledge is like a festering sore in my heart, for I realize that it is also so for a woman. So my life is becoming intolerable for me when I see you every day and cannot do so without feeling desire in my heart. At night I twist and turn without rest in my bed and I bite my pillow with yearning.”
I could not help but be flattered by her words. I looked at her with quite new eyes.
“Why have you said nothing before?” I asked. “Out of sheer mercy I would have come and slept with you any night. But such a thought never occurred to me because of your own disagreeable attitude.”
Claudia shook her head violently.
“I don’t need your mercy,” she said. “I should be committing a sin if I went to your bed without the bonds of marriage. To suggest such a thing shows how you’ve hardened your heart and how little you value me.”
I could not in all decency remind her of how low she had sunk at the time when I had found her, and her ideas were so insane that I was struck dumb with alarm.
“Antonia,” she went on, “would swear the most sacred oath before the Vestals that I am the legitimate daughter of Claudius and of the same blood as she. She’s almost certain to be willing to do that, if only to annoy Nero. Then a marriage with me would not be entirely worthless to you. If we had a child, the Vestals would know of his noble descent. If the situation changes, a son of ours could rise to the highest office in Rome. Antonia is very sad that she was childless in both her marriages.”
“How can a dead tree put out new shoots?” I cried. “Remember what you’ve been through.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me as a woman,” said Claudia indignantly. “My own body tells me that each month. I’ve told you, I am cleansed of my past. You too could convince yourself of that if you only wished to.”
When I tried to flee from the room, she seized hold of me and I do not know how we came to touch each other as we struggled together, but old wounds irritate and I had not slept with a woman for a long time. Within a short time we were kissing, and once Claudia had me in her arms, she lost control of herself completely. Afterwards she did cry, but nevertheless held on to me hard.