David Wishart - Nero

I hadn't seen Burrus for months. He looked old and tired and ill.

'Ah, Petronius!' He smiled thinly. 'I hope the emperor's Arbiter of Elegance has brought a miracle along with him. Jupiter knows we need one.'

I glanced enquiringly at Seneca. His pudgy face was lined and grey.

'I'm terribly afraid, my dear fellow,' he said, 'that we're losing him. We may indeed have lost him already. It's just a matter of who to.'

'"Who to"?' I pulled up a chair for Silia and sat next to her. 'What do you mean, who to?'

Seneca looked at Acte.

'Poppaea or the empress, Titus,' she said dully. 'One or the other. Me, I can't see that it matters.'

'Agrippina?' A cold finger touched my spine.

'They're sleeping together. They have been for days.'

'You're sure?' Silia frowned.

'Oh, yes. I'm sure. Chryse told me. It's common knowledge at the palace, among the slaves, anyway, and they always know what's going on.'

'Chryse is only a girl. Perhaps she made a mistake. Misinterpreted.'

'No mistake. And Chryse's sharp as a needle.'

'Tell us, then,' I said.

Acte shrugged. 'Not much to tell. Agrippina came round after dinner, when Lucius was three parts drunk, dressed up like a third-rate Damascus whore. She seduced him. Had him right there on the dining-room couch. She's been having him ever since.'

There was silence.

'So that's it, Petronius,' Burrus said at last. 'What do we do?'

I shook my head. 'I'm sorry, but I don't believe it. The emperor's no fool, drunk or sober, and he knows his mother's only interested in power. Chryse's mistaken.'

'I'm afraid not, my dear boy.' Seneca, as if to disassociate himself from his words, was staring at the book-shelves which lined the walls. 'There were others present. Not at the final…joining' — his mouth pursed — 'but during the, ah, preliminary stages. It was, as Acte says, a deliberate act of seduction, with the emperor's full co-operation.'

'Then he's mad!'

Burrus gave me another thin smile.

'Of course he is,' he said. 'We've known that for years.'

'I mean mad to let her get a hold over him again. I thought we were rid of Agrippina for good.'

'Didn't we all?'

'He loves her,' Acte said calmly. 'He's always loved her. Or lusted after her, anyway. He can't help it.'

'In any case her reasons are plain enough.' Seneca was dry. 'You know, of course, that Poppaea has almost persuaded the emperor to divorce Octavia?'

'That's nonsense! Nero has no intentions of — '

'Petronius, please!' Seneca held up a hand. 'You warned me yourself right at the start that that was what she wanted and I wouldn't listen. Don't make the same mistake I did. That isn't opinion, my dear fellow, it's fact. With Octavia gone Nero would be free to marry, and his new wife would be Poppaea, in which case I very much doubt if Agrippina would long survive the wedding.'

'He's right, Titus,' Silia said. 'She has to act now. Before she loses him altogether.'

Burrus nodded. 'I agree. Agrippina or Poppaea, one of them will have the boy soon. The question is which side do we choose? Which is best for Rome?'

'How about Lucius's side?' I said.

Seneca's eyebrows lifted, and he turned towards me. 'I beg your pardon?'

'How about choosing the emperor's side? He is, after all, my dears' — I spread my hands — 'the emperor.'

'Don't be idiotic, Titus!' Silia sniffed. 'The poor lamb hasn't got a side.'

'Are you sure?' I was getting just a little angry with all of them; with myself, too, if truth be told, because their assumptions were my own. And some demon seemed to have got hold of my tongue. 'Silia, the emperor is not a "child" or a "boy" or a "lamb". He's twenty-one years old and a man in his own right. Perhaps we should try to remember that occasionally.'

They stared at me. All of them.

'Must be his time of the month,' Burrus murmured. It was the only crude remark I ever heard him make.

'My dear fellow,' Seneca said smoothly. 'but of course Nero is an adult, physically at least. But you must admit that in the field of judgment — '

'His only real fault,' I interrupted him, 'is that he was born to the wrong mother and pushed into a job he was never fitted for. The poor devil would be perfectly content as third actor with a second-rate touring company or playing for money on street corners, and instead he's the most powerful individual in the world. That is worth bearing in mind too.'

I noticed that Acte was nodding. Burrus, however, was not.

'But, Petronius,' he said wearily, 'that's exactly the point. Nero's the emperor whether he likes it or not. Whether we like it or not. Theboy's' — he caught himself — 'I'm sorry, the man is well-meaning enough, I grant you, but still…'

'And that's another thing.' I was properly angry now. Goodness knows where all this was coming from, but I must have been bottling it up for months unknown even to myself because I meant every word. 'Yes, he is well-meaning. Now I'm no altruist like you and I don't take pleasure in manipulating people like Seneca or even darling Silia here…'

'Oh, my dear fellow!'

'Titus!'

'…but as a person who regards himself as reasonably cultured I have a lot of sympathy with what Lucius is trying to do.'

'Which is?' Burrus seemed genuinely interested.

'To take Rome by the scruff of the neck and civilise her, whether she likes the experience or not. Although I doubt if it's possible this late in the day, and I'm not wholly taken with the young man's methods, I still applaud his attempt.'

'Hey, Titus!' Acte said quietly amid a growing pool of silence.

'Titus, have you quite finished?' Silia's voice could have come straight off a glacier.

'I think so, dear,' I said. 'More or less.'

'Good.' She turned to Seneca. 'Now we were discussing what could be done. Perhaps…'

'Wait a moment. I agree with Petronius.' That was Burrus. I stared at him. 'Oh, no, not that rot about Nero's mission or whatever you like to call it. We've had that conversation before and he knows my opinion. Greece is a moral swamp and any sensible person will leave it alone. But he's right about not taking sides. Personally I don't want to support either Poppaea or the empress, and I don't think anyone else in this room does either.' He paused and looked round the faces. 'Well? Am I right?'

There was no answer.

'Fair enough. Not that I suspect we could do anything constructive in any case. So what's wrong with doing what Petronius suggests and leaving the lad — I'm sorry, Titus, but he is a lad, adult or not — to solve his own problems?'

Seneca cleared his throat. 'You think, then, that the poor…ah, that the emperor is capable of that?'

'Certainly not.' Burrus held his gaze. 'I'm not the idiot that Petronius seems to have become. But I think it might be safer and more…politic' — he let the word hang, and I swear the old hack blushed — 'to let him try.'

We left it at that. In the event I think we were right; although none of us imagined that Lucius's solution to the problem would be as drastic — and as final — as it turned out to be.

Silia was uncharacteristically quiet on the way home. We'd almost reached the Palatine when she said, 'I don't really manipulate people, Titus, do I?'

I smiled.

'All the time, darling. It's one of your most endearing qualities.'

'Like Seneca?'

'Not like Seneca.' I leaned over (we were in a double litter) and kissed her cheek. 'Besides, dear, you only do it for their own good. And the poor lost souls need someone to organise their lives for them.'

'That' — she sat back with a contented sigh — 'is what I thought.'

We finished the journey in politic silence.

What Lucius's solution was we discovered before March was half over. He usually celebrated the five-day Festival of Minerva at Baiae, not far from Naples. The celebrations were by all accounts impressive. I'd never been invited myself, but that, unfortunately, was about to be remedied.