Paul Doherty - Domina

‘Who’s that?’ I asked a chamberlain.

‘Why, sir, that’s Acte, one of Rome’s most beautiful women. Serenus is a very lucky man.’

I studied the girl carefully. She was dressed in green and white, and jewellery of the same colours adorned her neck, ear lobes and wrists. Despite the wine, I felt coldly sober. It was as if I had gone back some twenty-five years in time. Acte was beautiful, and had a powerful presence but the more I stared and saw that Nero was doing the same, the more that young woman reminded me of Agrippina as she had been when I first met her.

‘Did you attend the games?’

Pallas looked anxious, his eyes red-rimmed and ringed with shadows. He’d invited me into the treasury, and we sat in a small chamber near the imperial counting house, with its door locked, bolted and guarded. I knew by the fact that Pallas had invited me down there, that he must be upset and very wary, since he normally tended to acknowledge my presence only with a smile or a nod, considering me little more than Agrippina’s minion.

‘And is it true what happened?’

He picked up a wine jug, its lid carved in the form of a beautiful mermaid, and filled my Agamemnon goblet.

‘Well, is it true?’ he insisted. ‘One insult after another?’

‘The whole day was given over to it: goats, pumpkins, peacock feathers, mushrooms.’

‘But the crowd didn’t understand the significance?’

‘They will eventually,’ I retorted.

Pallas sighed noisily. ‘Doesn’t Agrippina realise what is happening?’ he wailed. ‘Seneca, that clever bugger, might be mocking Claudius but he is also mocking her. He’s proclaiming to the world that Agrippina killed her husband. With sarcasm as his weapon,’ he continued, ‘he’s nibbling away at Agrippina’s position like a dog at a juicy bone. Soon he’ll reach the marrow.’ He paused. ‘And what is Locusta doing back in Rome?’

‘Agrippina didn’t mind,’ I replied. ‘I have made enquiries and it seems that Nero himself ordered her return to Rome.’

‘Oh, he would!’ Pallas laughed sourly. ‘And how can Agrippina object? “You can’t have that woman in Rome”,’ Pallas mimicked Agrippina, ‘“I used her to poison the Emperor”.’ He fished amongst the scrolls on the desk and held one up. ‘There’s more. Nero hardly knew his father, and certainly never regretted his loss, but now our Emperor is suddenly all tender and dewy-eyed over his father’s memory. He’s planning to ask the Senate to pay the drunken, dropsical, dead Domitius special honours. I wouldn’t be surprised if some town or city, even Rome itself, isn’t forced to raise a subscription to have a beautifully carved statue of Nero’s degenerate father gracing some podium or the portico of a temple.’ Pallas let the scroll fall back on the table. ‘Nero doesn’t give a dog’s breath about his father, but Agrippina is going to find out that he doesn’t give a fig about anything: that old humbug Seneca has encouraged our Emperor into a course of action which he knows will offend Agrippina.’

Pallas picked up a thin parchment knife. He used it as a gladiator would a sword.

‘It’s prick, prick, scratch, scratch.’

‘But it won’t work,’ I retorted. ‘Agrippina is convinced of Nero’s love, his undying adoration and loyalty, so if he mocks Claudius’s memory, honours his dead father and employs the service of a well-known poisoner, how does that affect her position?’

I was being deliberately naive. I knew the answer even before Pallas replied.

He kicked the stool back and leapt to his feet, his podgy hands flailing the air. ‘Parmenon, Parmenon. You survived Tiberius, Caligula and Claudius: you know this is only the beginning. Seneca has yet to sink his teeth deeper into the bone. Now tell me, what has been Agrippina’s greatest achievement?’

‘You know that,’ I replied. ‘She managed to ensure that Nero became Emperor and Britannicus was disinherited. And, before you repeat yourself, Pallas, I know Seneca is now mocking us.’

‘But have you asked yourself why?’

‘Of course. He’s trying to drive a wedge between Agrippina and her son.’

‘Good, and what else?’

‘He’s trying to disassociate his pupil, our golden Nero, from the murder of the pathetic man who appointed him his heir.’

‘Good!’ Pallas agreed like a teacher.

‘At the same time,’ I added, ‘Seneca is quietly reminding Nero that he owes the throne to his mother and if one Emperor can be murdered. .’

‘Exactly!’ Pallas agreed, sipping from his goblet. ‘They are,’ he searched for words, ‘they are trying to separate son from mother. Nero is the new Emperor, the golden boy of prophecy.’ He waved his hands. ‘Agrippina belongs to the past. She’s achieved her task, and should now retire. The next step will be to provoke Nero, who is an adolescent boy after all — Emperor or not — into full-scale rebellion against his overbearing mother. I’ll tell you a story: two days ago Agrippina brought Nero here, into the Chamber of Silver. Apparently he had given a generous sum of money to a friend. Agrippina, to make him realise its value, made me place the same amount in front of him on this table. Nero lolled in my chair as the slaves emptied out the bags of gold, examined it carefully, and then scoffed, “If I had known it was so little I would have doubled it.” He got to his feet and walked out, leaving Agrippina bemused.’

‘The impetuosity of youth,’ I commented. ‘More important are Seneca’s reasons for this attack.’

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Pallas replied. ‘Seneca is sarcastic and bitter.’ He held up a hand. ‘He’s been exiled twice now by the imperial family. He loathed Corsica and its inhabitants, and despised their customs, their food and their drink. He regularly wrote begging letters to Caligula asking to have the exile lifted.’

‘And now he blames Agrippina for that?’

‘Yes, I think he hates the Augusta, and holds both her and her family responsible for his misery, so he’s going to settle his grudge once and for all. Seneca also likes wealth and power, and Agrippina has opened the door to both for him. Seneca, the former exile and philosopher, now has the chance to control both an Emperor and an empire, and he wants to do it by himself. He’d love to kiss Agrippina goodbye. So whilst Nero acts the angry, young man, Seneca will continue to plot. What do you think his next step will be, Parmenon?’

I recalled Agrippina and her young son sitting in the gardens at Antium or her estates in Tusculum.

‘Nero is Agrippina’s Achilles heel,’ I replied. ‘She will make the same mistake that all mothers do. A mother’s love is limitless and unconditional, her loyalty is undying; like all mothers, she expects her son to reciprocate.’ I paused. ‘Seneca has demonstrated that Agrippina can be criticised with impunity. He’s depicted her as a greater fool even than Claudius, whilst also reminding Nero that she cleared his path to the throne. The next step Seneca will take is to start asking Nero if it is truly he that rules, or his mother? It will be easy to turn that young man’s head.’

‘And then what?’ Pallas demanded.

‘Seneca will go for the throat. He’s studied his young student very closely, and really it’s a matter of logic, isn’t it, Pallas? If Nero can be dominated by one woman, his mother, then why not another. .?’

‘Acte?’

‘Acte,’ I agreed. ‘She’s wealthy, civilised, courteous, extremely beautiful and alluring. She bears more than a passing resemblance to a young Agrippina. Seneca has chosen well. What do you know of her?’