David Wishart - Nero

My invitation came early in the month, together with a request that I visit Lucius at the Palace as soon as possible. The slave took me to a small gymnasium furnished with a single chair. Lucius lay on the floor, dressed in a short tunic. He had a slab of lead on his chest, and he was wheezing like an old pair of bellows. I waited politely until he nodded to the slaves standing on either side. The slab was removed.

'A breathing exercise, Titus,' he said. 'You should try it. It does absolute wonders for the voice.'

'Oh, no, my dear, not me! I've too much respect for my ribs. And' — I indicated his face — 'I've never been all that fond of purple.'

He laughed and threw himself into the chair. Slaves mopped the sweat from his forehead and dabbed on perfume. There was very little left now of his fragile, boyish prettiness. His throat and lower jaw were beginning to swell, giving his whole face a coarse appearance. He was also, I noticed, getting fat.

When the slaves had finished he waved them out and we were left alone.

'You got the invitation?' he asked. 'For the festival?'

'Of course. That's why I'm here.'

'Good. Now, dear, I'd like you to organise a party for me and Mother. We'll have it at the villa in Bauli.' It took me all the powers of dissimulation I possessed to keep the look of shock from my face. Even so Lucius looked concerned. 'There's no problem, is there? You can do it in the time?'

'No. I mean yes, of course I can do it, if you want me to.'

He beamed. 'That's lovely. Don't spare any expense, mind, I can afford it, and Mother's worth every penny. Besides, she gets out so seldom these days, poor dear.'

There was a peculiar breathless catch to his voice that I couldn't quite place. It was both disturbing and tantalisingly familiar.

'Will Poppaea be there?' I tried to keep my own voice neutral.

'Oh, no. Poppy can't manage it, unfortunately. A migraine headache. She can feel them coming on months in advance sometimes. It'll just be me and Mother.' There it was again. Perhaps it was an after-effect of the lead slab. 'What's wrong, Titus? You seem a little hesitant.'

'No. Not at all. What kind of party were you thinking of?'

'Oh, that's up to you, darling! You're so good at parties I wouldn't even dare suggest. Cater for fifty.' He lay back and closed his eyes. As if by prearrangement (which it probably was) a pretty slave-boy no older than five or six slipped into the room. Completely ignoring me, he began to massage Lucius's feet and ankles. 'But remember. Whatever you decide on Mummy must enjoy it. Despite all the terrible things that Poppy tells me she's been saying about me recently she is my own darling mummy, and she deserves her treat.'

'Terrible things?' I was watching fascinated. The boy's hands had moved above the hem of Lucius's tunic and were caressing his bare privates.

'Terrible, Titus.' Lucius spread his legs. 'I couldn't possibly repeat them.' His voice dropped to a murmur. 'But she is my own dear mummy, and she shall have her party. Whatever Poppy says.'

Just then the boy ducked his head beneath the tunic, and I left quickly. Neither of them, I'm sure, saw me go.

I wasn't happy. Despite what I'd said, ten days is far too short a time to organise a proper party, especially when it's an imperial commission. However, what Seneca had called Lucius's new independence of mind was getting stronger by the day. He was quite simply beginning to realise the basic truth that everyone had been taking pains to hide from him: that an emperor can do what he likes, in reason or out of it. So far our relations had been excellent, but I was very well aware that the relationship was changing. I wasn't alone, of course; Seneca and Burrus were the same. Presumably Poppaea and Agrippina also. We were all in our different ways walking on glass; softly, and with bated breath. I shuddered to think what the response would be, now, if anyone made the mistake of seriously crossing Lucius.

He'd told me that the party had to be a good one. I knew that for my own safety it had to be better than good.

It was. Because Lucius and Agrippina would come by sea from Baiae I began by mooring six rafts offshore on which sat two dozen 'Sirens', girls chosen for their beauty and their singing voices. Around these islands swam other beautiful boys and girls dressed as Tritons and Nereids. Their job was to escort the imperial boat through the shallows to the landing stage. In the gardens leading up from the beach (lit, like the islands, by coloured lamps and torches) were more nymphs and satyrs, and a group of hidden musicians with flutes and lyres. The effect, although I do say so myself, was magnificent.

But not more magnificent than Lucius, when he finally arrived at the villa where I was waiting to welcome him. His mantle, covered in gold leaf and spangles which glittered in the lamplight, belonged on a stage rather than at a dinner party, and his eyelids were dusted with powdered pearls.

'Titus, it's beautiful! You've excelled yourself!' He hugged me. 'Hasn't he, Mother?'

'Very nice indeed, dear.' Agrippina looked frankly royal in stiff cloth of gold with a ruby tiara. She held out a hand, palm downwards. I kissed it. 'A lovely surprise.'

'I'm glad you're pleased, darling.' Lucius kissed her on the cheek. He looked back down towards the landing stage where the boats of the other guests were mooring and shouted: 'Anicetus! Are you all right?'

A figure disentangled itself from two hamadryads — recruited, like most of the nymphs and satyrs, from the Naples Prostitutes' Guild — and waved.

'The poor dear was terribly sick coming across.' Lucius grinned at me; at such close quarters the smell of his perfume almost had me rocking on my heels. 'For a Commander of the Fleet he's really the most dreadful sailor. And in a flat calm, too. Disgusting.' He giggled. 'I must see he gets more practice. Now, what else have you got for us?'

I led the way inside. I was rather proud of how I'd decorated the villa. Bushes and small trees in pots, interspersed with leafy branches and more coloured lights, broke up the stiff formality of the rooms into a series of grottoes with couches and tables strewn with flowers. The air was delicately scented with expensive perfumes; not that one could smell them in the emperor's presence, of course. By prearrangement as we entered the most beautiful boy the Naples Guild could provide stepped forward and held out a wine tray with two golden cups.

Lucius took one of them. His eyes undressed the boy: not difficult, since he wore only a cache-sexe and a wreath of flowers.

'Titus!' he said. 'What a perfect little Ganymede! Wherever did you find him?'

The boy offered the other cup to Agrippina. She took it, frowning. Lucius turned to her.

'Oh, don't be silly, Mother!' he said. 'The child's an absolute pet!' He stretched out his hand and, his eyes never leaving her face, delicately fingered the lad's gilded nipples. 'Or don't you think so?'

'Yes, dear.' Agrippina, I could see, was not amused. 'He's very pretty.'

'Isn't he? Off you go, little one.' Lucius turned the boy round and patted his behind. He was still looking at Agrippina. 'Bring us some more wine later.' The child trotted off. 'Now, Titus, what's for dinner? I am starving, simply starving!'

'I thought you and the empress would like to dine in private,' I said.

That brought the first smile I'd seen so far from Agrippina. She reached down and squeezed Lucius's hand.

'Oh, how very thoughtful!' she murmured. 'Isn't it, dear?'

Instead of replying Lucius brushed the powdery whiteness of her forehead with his lips. Agrippina may still have been a very beautiful woman, but she was — I saw now in the brighter light from the oil lamps — very heavily made up. Under the white lead I could see the clear signs of crow's feet at the corners of her eyes and the edges of her mouth.