Paul Doherty - Domina

Of course, Agerinus had invented the last part, protecting Nero as well as himself. He could hardly have burst in and shouted, ‘The accident you arranged for your bitch of a mother went wrong and she’s now safe!’

Nero promptly dismissed him. As soon as Agerinus was out of the room, the little monster had an anxiety attack. He paced up and down, half swooning with fear, and threw himself down onto his couch.

‘Oh Gods!’ he bawled. ‘Mother has survived. She will arm her slaves, seek the Praetorian Guard’s protection and demand to speak to the Senate. What can I do to save myself?’ He turned to Burrus and Seneca. ‘What can I do? Help me!’

This precious pair simply stared back at him. Nero was correct: if it had been against anyone but her son, Agrippina would have marched on Rome, and the Praetorian Guard would certainly have been aghast at any attack on the daughter of their beloved Germanicus. I am sure their minds teemed with the knowledge that, if there were a coup, they would fall with Nero. Much as they might have wished to see the back of him, who could be the next Emperor? Thanks to Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero, with a little help from Agrippina, there were no successors left in the Claudian line. What if the troops hailed Agrippina as Empress or allowed her to choose the next Emperor for the Senate to confirm? There were other considerations: as a soldier, Burrus might not have liked the odds stacked against him. Seneca, although a hypocrite, was a well-known philosopher — how could the First Minister of Rome advise his Emperor to murder ‘the best of mothers’?

Nero sobbed on the couch, and lifted his tearful face. ‘Burrus, can’t you order your troops to strike?’

‘They will not do it,’ the Praetorian tribune replied. ‘They love your Excellency but they also love your mother.’ He waved a hand contemptuously at Anicetus who was still sniffing the flowers. ‘He started this, so let him finish it!’

As Burrus and Seneca withdrew, Anicetus threw the garland on the floor, got to his feet, stretched and said lazily, ‘Caesar, you go to bed, and dream happily. I have work to do.’

He then summoned two of his lieutenants, naval officers Hercules and Oberitius, as well as a group of tough marines. They took the fleetest horses in the stables and rode around the bay to Agrippina’s villa.

As I said, I discovered all this later. Since our escape, I’d been listening to Agrippina’s reminscences, and begging her to flee. But Agrippina knew it was the end. She just sat by the brazier sipping her wine. As the news of the accident and her escape had spread, people had flocked to the villa. Once they’d discovered it was not the accident they’d first thought, they soon disappeared. The maids and servants also slipped away into the night. As Agrippina heard their fading footsteps, she glanced at me and smiled.

‘Won’t you go too?’

‘I will stay, Domina.’

‘He will not harm me.’

I closed my eyes at the foolishness of it all. She had just escaped a drowning arranged by her son and, within hours of reaching safety, she’d started to excuse him.

‘Let us remember, Parmenon?’ she continued. Her eyes had a dreamy, far-away look and she’d go back down the years, laughing and joking about all people we had known: Claudius and his strange edicts about breaking wind at table; Tiberius’s ears; Passienus embracing his favourite tree. She was still talking when I heard the sound of galloping horses, and shouts from the courtyard. I sprang to my feet and, picking up a sword, put myself between the door and Agrippina. Anicetus, followed by his two lieutenants, burst the lock open and swaggered in. All three must have drunk heavily before they’d left Baiae, I could smell the wine on their breath. Agrippina got to her feet and gently pushed me out of the way.

‘Why, gentlemen, good evening, or should I say good morning? If you have come to visit me, you can report that I am recovered. But if you don’t mean me well and come as assassins, I know my son is not responsible — he would never order his mother’s death.’

She paused at fresh sounds of further horsemen on the road outside. She nodded at me, and I went to the door, down the empty passageway and into a small paved courtyard. In the light of torches fixed in the wall, I glimpsed a clump of red-gold curls: Nero was there with his German mercenaries. I know that he had not come to save his mother. He swaggered across, a small wine cup in his hand.

‘Why, Parmenon, good evening.’

I sank to my knees before him and he patted my head.

‘Are you grieving already, Parmenon?’

I knew the reason for his visit even as I heard shouts from inside the house. Nero shrank away, as I leapt to my feet and hurried back down the passageway. The door had been closed but I kicked it open. Anicetus and his two lieutenants had now pushed Agrippina back onto the small pallet bed. She was half sitting, her black hair loosened and framing her face. She glanced quickly past them at me: it was her farewell, a slight smile containing all her bravery, and her beauty in those lustrous eyes. One of the lieutenants, I think it was Oberitius, pushed her further back, and before I could intervene, he brought down the flat of his sword, dealing her an ugly blow to the head. Hercules drew his dagger, as Agrippina, the blood coursing down her face, pushed herself back against the wall. She looked once more past them as if she knew that her son was nearby, hiding in the shadows. She took her gown by the neck and ripped it open, thrusting her body forward.

‘I am Agrippina!’ she shouted, eyes blazing. ‘Daughter of Germanicus, sister of Caligula, mother of Nero! Yes, mother of Nero!’ She clutched her stomach. ‘If you must strike, then strike here!’

Hercules hesitated.

‘Strike at my womb!’ Agrippina shouted.

His blade went down, thrusting in up to the hilt. Agrippina arched forward, eyes closed, mouth open. She collapsed to the floor. I crept within the doorway and stood in the shadows. I couldn’t stop trembling. I felt as if a cold wind had wrapped itself around me, numbing my mind and heart. Agrippina’s body sprawled on the floor, as the three assassins stepped back, looked fearfully at each other. There was a sound of footsteps and Nero’s shadow crossed the threshold. He grinned sideways at me and I saw Caligula’s face. Two devils in one! Nero stretched his hand out, fingers twisted into a claw, which he pressed into my face pushing my head further back into the corner.

‘Is she dead?’ His voice was coarse and deep. ‘Is my mother dead?’

He walked across and pulled over the corpse. Squatting down, he stared curiously at the face.

‘Give me some wine!’

Anicetus filled a goblet, which was the one Agrippina had used. Nero slurped from it, as he stretched out his hand and touched the pool of blood. He stared and, grabbing his mother’s torn dress, rent it even further. He minutely examined the corpse, noting each bruise and lesion.

‘She was beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘Wasn’t she, Anicetus? Look at her breasts, her neck?’

The silence in the room grew oppressive. Nero got to his feet.

‘Parmenon, are you still there?’ He looked up at the ceiling. ‘And what of Mother? Do you feel her, Anicetus? Her ghost? They make a precious pair, don’t they? Uncle Caligula and her.’

Nero began to hop strangely from foot to foot. He went to the window, looked out at the fading moon and quickly withdrew, flattening his back against the wall.

‘She’s in the garden!’ he whispered. ‘Anicetus, get me. . get me some black broad beans!’

Anicetus stood rooted to the spot.

‘Get them!’ Nero urged.

Anicetus hurried to the door, glancing fearfully at me. A short while later he returned and thrust a handful of beans into Nero’s hand. The monster stood, head tilted back, and put the beans into his mouth, some dropping out to clatter on the floor. Nero took his sandals off and did a strange barefoot dance, snapping his fingers, a popular exercise to frighten away ghosts. He left, running out into the garden where a small fountain bubbled. Three times he washed his hands in the icy water and came back, snapping his fingers and throwing over his shoulders the black beans he’d stuffed into his mouth. He paused gasping, muttering strange words, spells he had learnt. All the time I stayed still, until the left side of my face grew numb and I began to rub it. I wanted to flee but I couldn’t. All I could see was that madman and Agrippina’s corpse stiffening on the floor, the widening pool of blood mixing with her long black hair.