Luke Devenish - Nest of vipers

But when Livia had gone, Antonia had been left to deplore her friend for being so blind to the implications. This was not some girlish indiscretion on Livilla's part. The appalling ramifications of the affair took the breath from Antonia's chest.

Livia had made Antonia a gift of the hitherto unseen element that united her family's tragedies. A macabre pattern emerged. It was there, she now realised, in her son Germanicus's death. It was there, too, in her son-in-law Castor's demise. There it was again in Agrippina's decline, with the fall of her friends having fanned the flames of her madness. And there it was, too, in Nero's disgrace, followed so soon after by Drusus. Now that she had learned that poor, deluded Livilla actually believed herself loved, the common element to all these sorrows was revealed as starkly as the sun. Sejanus stood to profit from her family's destruction. Sejanus, Antonia now knew, had ensured that not one of the letters she had written to Tiberius was received.

Cold rage empowered Antonia. She sensed the shadow of her former self flitting across the walls, taunting her for the years of ignorance. She had once been called Rome's most revered matron. What matron would let this ever come to pass?

Antonia forced herself upright. She placed her feet on the floor. Her head span with the effort, but she determinedly stood, catching her breath for a moment. She took her first steps in many weeks as she went to her clothes chest, flinging it open to pluck out the first warm garment she saw.

She fell still as she heard Livilla moving around in the room next to hers. She waited. Livilla returned to her own bed and Antonia resumed dressing in careful silence.

She knew what must be done — and done without her daughter knowing of it. She needed an ally she could trust, someone young and resourceful, blessed with physical strength.

As Antonia stole from her room into the darkened house beyond, she realised that she knew just such a person.

Burrus pressed his lips to Nilla's ear. 'Wake. Please wake!'

Nilla stirred but tried to cling to the comforts of Somnus.

'My love, please wake,' Burrus whispered, insistent. 'It is important.'

She felt the dreams slipping from her fingers, leaving grief in their wake. The loss of Acte lifted her to consciousness again, kissing her just as Burrus kissed her cheek. It never left her, the pain, but sometimes in her dreams she could escape it.

'Leave me be, Burrus…'

'No, my love. You must come with me.'

'Leave me. Let me sleep.'

Burrus lifted her in his arms. 'Ssh,' he whispered. 'Don't make a sound. Red-hair and his whore must not know of this.'

'Know of what?'

He kissed her into silence, taking her from the room and down the stairs. A draught of wind from the street swept her hair.

'The door is open?'

'Yes, love.'

'Who is here?'

Antonia stepped forward from the shadows, embracing Nilla tightly.

'Grandmother?'

'I shall not stay here long,' said Antonia. 'I'm going on a journey that will save the lives of your mother and your brothers, if I succeed.'

Tears filled Nilla's eyes. 'Oh Grandmother, yes!'

Antonia embraced her again.

'Let me help you,' Nilla begged. 'What can I do?'

'Will you give me something that is precious to you?'

'Anything,' Nilla said. 'What do I have left to give?'

Antonia looked to the strong, young man who had cradled her granddaughter so tenderly down the stairs. 'Your loyal slave,' she said. 'Give me Burrus.'

With Macro gone, Livia found me quietly crying in the corridor.

'Oh, Iphicles.'

'I am so sorry, domina,' I snivelled, trying to stand. But my legs failed me and I couldn't rise.

'Look at you.'

'Please, domina. Just leave me here,' I wept.

But she would not. Livia knelt on the floor where I lay. 'Here, now.' She lifted my head. 'Poor slave.' Tenderly, she placed me in her lap and began to stroke my hair as a mother might.

After a while I asked, 'Was it a lie that Sejanus ordered Nero to be killed?'

'Of course,' said Livia. 'Nero has not been condemned.'

'The lie was told for Lygdus to hear?'

'And no one else.'

'Why, domina? Why do that?'

'Oh, Iphicles. And here I thought you'd gathered your wits once more.'

I began to cry again. Of course I knew why. 'To prompt him into action… That's what it was for.'

'Much better,' she said. 'Now your wits have returned.'

'Oh, my poor son,' I sobbed. I knew what Lygdus's fate would be.

'Ssh,' she murmured softly. 'The sacrifice of a child is nothing when one possesses a great destiny. I, too, will know this pain, Iphicles.'

She began to hum a lullaby.

' Domina… will you ever call me Attis?'

'But you are not that god any more. If you ever were.'

'Not Attis? Am I a god at all?'

'Of course you are.' She continued to hum.

'Which god?' I asked, looking deep into her night-black eyes. 'Which god am I, domina?'

She smiled at me. A mother's smile. 'I am surprised you have not discovered it by now.'

Armilustrium

October, AD 31

Four days later: the condemned prophet

Stephen is stoned to death by a mob led by

Saul of Tarsus

The dozens of naked minnows stared in stunned and fearful silence as Antonia progressed through the gardens with only a slave to accompany her. This slave, they all realised, was the same slave they had thrown from the cliffs to drown. Burrus regarded them with contempt, marking each and every face for vengeance.

At the far end of the terrace, staring out to sea, the Emperor knocked over his cup. The contents spilled to the ground.

'Curse it,' he muttered.

Antonia picked it up. 'It is a curse. This drink does you no good, Caesar.'

He leaped to his feet. 'It cannot be…'

'Yes, it is.' She embraced him. 'I am your old friend Antonia here to visit you.'

He basked in the warmth of her kisses. 'Oh, my friend — it is so good to see you again.'

She let him go and stood facing him sadly.

'What is it? Why are you here to see me?'

'I'm here in warning…'

From somewhere Tiberius heard the honking of the geese.

'Sejanus has enacted a conspiracy,' Antonia said, 'and its victim is you.'

The honks became a goddess's voice, from so far away. ' The matron's words alone are heard, the addled heart is ringed…'

He touched the Imperial ring on his ringer and knew that Antonia was his saviour.

Tiberius watched as Antonia poured the last of the Eastern flower into the water far below. There was no more left. The island was now rid of it.

'How do you feel?' she asked him.

'Frightened,' he said with unvarnished honesty. 'I have tried this before, you see — and I have failed.'

'You did not have a friend to help you. Now you do.' She began to lead him away from the cliff and back to the green of the garden, where the minnows stood staring from the grass. 'Is frightened all you feel, Caesar?'

'Fear is much of it,' said Tiberius, 'but it is not all, no. I feel resolved.'

'Good.'

'And inspired. By your loyalty and dignity, Antonia.'

She smiled at him. 'They are two things I will go to my pyre still possessing.'

Tiberius squeezed her hand then looked about him for the Praetorian he trusted. 'Tribune.'

Macro came forward. 'Hail, Caesar.'

'You understand your orders?'

'I do,' said Macro. 'With Caesar's permission I will depart for Pontia right now.'

'It is nearly November. The seas there will be treacherous.'

'Time is imperative,' said Macro, 'and the Prefect's treachery is worse.'

'The gods bless you, Tribune. Free my grandson. Bring him here, where he'll be safe.'

'It will be done, Caesar.' Macro saluted again and left.

When Antonia was satisfied that Tiberius was resting comfortably, she turned her eye to the assembled minnows. 'So then,' she began. 'This is how you appear before your Emperor? Stark naked?'