Luke Devenish - Nest of vipers

Domitia stared at her like she was simple. 'Try that stuff on me? It is my stuff. He wears my clothes, Albucilla — all my gowns and shoes. He wears my underthings and even my veils. He tries them all on and parades about. He treats me with kindness, constant kindness, but my wardrobe has become his property.' She sniffed at her stola. 'Every single thing I wear smells of him!'

Albucilla wanted to laugh. 'He's — he's a transvestite?'

'If that's what it's called, then yes, that's what he is.'

'Oh Domitia, you've got off lightly,' Albucilla beamed at her. 'So many wellborn wives end up with real monsters for their grooms.'

'I don't think you understand,' Domitia began to say.

'Of course I do. So he puts on your clothes? Let him. What harm does it do? I bet Rome is full of such secretive men.'

'You don't understand,' Domitia said again, with an edge to her voice. 'He is Drusus, the second son of Agrippina, who is locked up in a prison without charge. His older brother, Nero, is already an exile and his younger brother, Little Boots, is a captive on the Emperor's island.'

Albucilla was silent.

'My husband is the son of a damned house, the House of Germanicus — damned by Sejanus. My sister believes it is a marriage blessed by Veiovis, but she is wrong. It is devoid of glory. The marriage was meant as a warning to Drusus, a humiliation. I am the daughter of a traitor, and the message meant for my husband was that I am all he is worthy of — a traitor's seed.'

Albucilla couldn't believe this was possible. 'No, Domitia, surely — '

'Nilla was given the same message. Why else force her to marry my idiot mute brother?'

'Ahenobarbus is a good man — ' Albucilla began.

Domitia raised a hand. 'There is another message in the marriage, and it's meant for me, the traitor's child.'

'Another?'

'I can be redeemed. I can remove my mother's stain from myself and from my unborn children. I can then move on. I can gain another marriage, a better one. But only if I show Sejanus my loyalty with a gift.'

'What gift? What do you mean?'

'An accusation,' Domitia began to weep again, 'made in public. Declaring my husband's perversions. Sejanus will be blameless, of course. No one will accuse him of bringing about Drusus's downfall when I'm the one who's come out with it.'

Albucilla stared at Domitia in horror. 'But that's evil. It's a betrayal. A monstrous thing to do to a man for something that causes no harm. With Rome as it is, you'd be sending him to his death.'

'I know,' Domitia sobbed. 'I know!'

Albucilla held her close. 'Oh Domitia, whatever will you do?'

'I thought you realised.' Domitia stared at her with shame. 'I've already done it… '

'Oh, the shame,' Livia muttered from the balcony, where she had an uninterrupted view of proceedings. 'The dreadful shame of it. If my husband Augustus were still alive, I do believe this would kill him again.'

Even I, observing the scene from her shoulder, thought her commentary a bit much. Especially given she'd poisoned Augustus with her very own hands.

'Poor Drusus. What a vice to choose. If only he'd gone for something less disgusting.'

' Domina, really,' I admonished.

In the square below, the weeping Drusus was dragged in chains towards a waiting cart, which would take him to his imprisonment. He was dressed in a woman's gown — his wife's.

'Still, I must commend the way the fabric clings to his form,' said Livia. 'A very pleasing effect. I can see why he likes it.'

' Domina, you are outrageous. He is your great-grandson.'

Livia shrugged and turned to go back into her suite. But there was a twinkle in her eye. The arch words and wicked humour were all for my benefit. She was enjoying playing to an acolyte again. And I was enjoying being closer to determining the intentions behind her schemes. I could not ask what they were, of course, but I suspected now that she would tell me in time, when my curiosity had become unbearable.

Lygdus roused himself at the door, opening it for her. His face still had a haunted look.

'Lygdus, you look like a wraith,' said Livia, not without sympathy.

He tried to bow. Tears were dripping down his cheeks.

'My slave,' said Livia, moved. She cupped her hand under his chin, lifting him up to look at her. His tears wet her fingertips. 'You must remember that Drusus was the one who brought the carefully recorded details of Nero's perversions to light. You should be pleased that further perversions have now claimed Drusus. It's a fitting reward for his treachery, don't you think?'

Lygdus broke down.

'Speak to me, slave. Tell me what you feel.'

'I am unable to feel anything but misery at Nero's unknown fate on Pontia, domina,' he sobbed.

'Oh dear. Poor slave. It is such a dreadful thing to be haunted by what we do not know. Go and rest on your pallet. I do not need you to serve me today.'

Crying noisily, Lygdus departed.

Although I continued to feel great pity for him, I was not surprised to note the speed with which Livia's own pity dropped away the second he was gone. Emboldened after being so long sublimated, I dared to comment. 'The "carefully recorded details" that Drusus used against his brother were the ones that Lygdus himself recorded, domina, under my direction.'

She waited.

'The very details you forced me to eat, letting me think you'd made no copies.'

She tittered at her past joke.

' Domina, are you torturing Lygdus with purpose?'

'"Torture" is such an inadequate word.'

'Please stop it.'

She raised her eyebrow at my returning presumption. I was walking a knife edge. One false step could see me gifted to the carnifex.

'I believe, domina, that with time and affection Lygdus will become a useful slave again. After all, he was happy to kill once. Perhaps if my domina eases her treatment of him, Lygdus will be persuaded to kill a second time? And even a third?'

There was a long silence. Every muscle tensed as I prepared to retrieve the curtain rod upon her command, ready to face her rage. But to my astonishment Livia agreed with me. 'Lygdus's "torture", as you call it, will cease. I can already sense that he will shortly become more useful than he has ever been.'

Intoxicated by my victory, I threw myself at her feet. She purred with pleasure at my grovelling and took care to tread cruelly upon me as she went to sit at her looking glass. Glowing with pride, I risked a final question from the floor. 'Dare I ask, domina, whom next you intend employing in your mysterious plans?'

Admiring her unnaturally youthful reflection, Livia was coy. 'I feel it will soon be time for Antonia to play her part,' she replied.

Equirria

October, AD 31

Eighteen months later: the prophet Stephen is tried by Sanhedrin priests in Judea for blasphemy against the Jewish god

Livilla tended her ailing mother with such a depth of love it shocked her. For her entire life her relationship with Antonia had been one of combat. All Antonia's attempts to censure and correct Livilla's wilful nature had been countermanded by sullen resistance during Livilla's younger years, and then outright refusal once she had married. Whatever feeling Livilla held for her mother was, previously, something she was unable to define. She had certainly hated Antonia at times — she knew that — and had kept many wicked secrets from her, all the while half-hoping that her mother would expose them, if only so she could relish Antonia's shock.

But now that Antonia's decline had become so marked, along with the fall of the House of Germanicus, Livilla's true love for her mother won through. Her own life was so happy. Everything for which she had hoped and prayed was imminent. Rome would soon nestle in her hand. She could afford to sweep aside the enmity of so many years and tend to her mother as the great matron prepared to board the barge for the Underworld.