Domina (Paul Doherty Historical Mysteries) (10 page)

Metellus scraped back the stool and followed me up. I went along the gallery and knocked on the door. Agrippina opened it, almost dragged the fellow through, then slammed it shut in my face. I stood wondering what was to happen. I heard Agrippina laugh, the clink of cups. Was she playing some game? I tried the handle but the bolts were in place. I was walking down the gallery when I heard the screams, terrible piercing yells, so strident they quelled the clamour below. I ran back towards the door and pushed against it. From inside I could hear the clatter of noise as if a violent struggle was taking place. The alarm was being raised. Two Praetorian guards came running up, swords drawn. Burly fellows, they shoved me aside. Using the pommel of their swords, they hammered on the door, from behind which came Agrippina’s screams and yells, and the sounds of a scuffle grew more strident. Stools and benches were used to force open the door and I followed the soldiers into the room. Metellus lay sprawled on the floor before the couch, a gaping wound in his chest. Agrippina, her tunic covered in blood, knelt beside him holding a dagger. Her stola had been ripped, and she had scratch marks on her face. She pushed her hair back and stared wildly at the soldiers.

‘He tried to rape me!’ she hissed. She pointed to the goblets lying in a pool of wine in the middle of the room. ‘He was drunk.’

She caught my gaze and, for a second, I saw the smile in her eyes. She got to her feet still holding the dagger.

‘Is this the way -’ she yelled, ‘- to treat the daughter of Germanicus? Am I some common whore to be pawed at by servants?’

Her maids appeared. Agrippina yelled obscenities, asking them where they had been. They tried to reply but Agrippina threw the dagger on the floor. She crumpled on the couch, put her face in her hands and sobbed bitterly. The soldiers, both outraged and fearful at what had happened, grabbed Metellus’s corpse and flung it through the window onto the courtyard below. I decided it was time to act as if I was the Domina’s secretarius. Water and towels were ordered. I thanked the soldiers and asked them to leave. Once they had, Agrippina got to her feet and allowed the maids to dab at the cuts on her face and hands. She seized a moment in the hustle and bustle to beckon me over.

‘Go, tell Sejanus’s minions,’ she whispered, ‘that I am of the blood imperial. I have been attacked! A lowling has tried to rape me. I demand to see the Emperor!’ She grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. ‘Use your wit, Parmenon. Act as if you were truly Sejanus’s spy. Tell the truth!’

I left immediately, threading my way through the passageways of the Palatine Palace across the parklands. Darkness was falling, and torches and lamps were being lit. I found the Minion in the same chamber in which we had first met. I suspect he already knew what had happened but when I gave him the details his face paled. He plucked at his face and sifted the parchments on the table.

‘I see. I see,’ he muttered. ‘You’d best stay here.’

An hour passed. The darkness deepened, the light from the oil lamps gutted out. At last the Minion returned.

‘His Excellency will see you now!’

‘I wish the Roman populace had only one neck’

Suetonius, ‘
Lives of the Caesars
’: Caligula, 30

‘So, she wishes to go to Capri?’

Sejanus lounged on a couch, one arm on the headrest, a wax writing tablet on his knee. A small tripod next to the couch held quills, ink and pumice stone. He put the tablet down and glanced at me, fingers laced. Sejanus was at his most avuncular: patrician, his grey hair carefully combed, smiling eyes, slightly hooked nose, his face freshly shaved and oiled.

‘I’ve heard what happened.’ He smiled. ‘Do you believe it?’

I recalled Agrippina’s advice.

‘No, I don’t, Excellency.’

Sejanus furrowed his brow. ‘I am glad you said that. Neither do I. Metellus was a cold fish, who prefered little boys to women so why should he try and rape Agrippina?’ He clicked his tongue.

I was standing about three yards from him. I hoped he couldn’t smell my fear.

‘But Agrippina acted foolishly. Surely she would have known about Metellus’s preferences? Let me think this through.’ Sejanus reflected. ‘Agrippina sent you to bring Metellus to her room, and then locked the door. Almost immediately she started to scream a yell and when the Praetorians broke in, Metellus, one of my spies, was found with a dagger thrust through the heart. Now Agrippina is acting the hysterical bitch and pleading to be sent to Capri to complain to the Emperor.’ He sighed. ‘To be perfectly honest I suspect the Divine One won’t believe her either.’

He lowered his head and clicked his tongue. I stared round the marble room. Purple and gold drapes hung against the walls and two crumbling gravestones, a memento mori, perched at either end of the couch. Was it Sejanus’s idea to terrify visitors or had this been the great Augustus’s writing chamber? The furniture was exquisite, much of it of Egyptian design, as were the statuettes – an Apis bull, a Hermes, a dancing girl – and a silver lamp-stand carved in the shape of a tree. Agrippina later explained that it was all looted from Cleopatra’s court. At the time I didn’t really care, only aware of the warmth and the brooding silence. The drapes moved slightly, and I glanced down and caught sight of the toe of a boot peeping out beneath. Sejanus was no fool: he appeared to be frightened of no one but the chamber was full of guards, their swords drawn, ready to protect him or to carry out his slightest whim. He continued to click his tongue, an unnerving sound: sometimes fast, sometimes slow it seemed to echo the beat of my heart. I stared down at the floor and studied the mosaic which was of Demeter rising from the corn fields.

‘I am wondering,’ Sejanus smiled, ‘dearest kinsman, if you are part of this plot?’

He picked up a bell and rang it vigorously. A door in the wall opened and the Minion stepped through. Sejanus didn’t even bother to turn his head.

‘Who’s in the chamber below?’ he demanded.

‘Tibullus.’

‘Ah yes, our self-styled poet who thinks he is a new Virgil. Any progress?’

The Minion shook his sweat-soaked face.

‘Take my kinsman Parmenon down.’

The Minion snapped his fingers, and I followed him out. The chamber beyond was pitch black except for a torch flickering at the bottom of the steep, sharp steps. The Minion grabbed me by the arm and bustled me down.

‘Don’t be frightened!’ he sniggered.

I wished I’d fled. Agrippina’s plot was doomed to failure. Sejanus had realised what she was up to. She wouldn’t be travelling to Capri and I was about to end my days in a place like this. We reached the bottom of the steps and went along a poorly lit corridor which debouched into a circular chamber, where I saw men dressed like gladiators and satyrs, the masks over their faces made all the more grotesque by the leaping torchlight. The smell was as fetid as that from an open latrine. The grotesques moved away to reveal the outstretched body of a man on the table.

‘He’s not a prisoner,’ the Minion sniggered, pointing at me. ‘At least not yet. Just show him.’

One of the grotesques pushed me forward. Tibullus, or what was left of him, lay outstretched on a table. He was completely naked. He had lost consciousness but the vinegar-soaked gag in his mouth would have blocked his screams. Blood soaked both him and the table, oozing from small puncture holes in his body. I froze in horror. The table top beneath was covered in a forest of small spikes. Tibullis was literally being tortured to death by a thousand cuts. Each time his body was moved and turned, the nails either dug afresh or cut deeper into the open wounds.

‘He wrote a poem, Tibullis did,’ the Minion explained. ‘What we are trying to discover is who paid him?’

‘I didn’t!’ I snapped, trying to hide my fear.

‘No, of course you didn’t. But you get the message?’

‘Very clearly.’

‘Good, good.’ The Minion put a scented pomander to his nose. ‘Do remember what you’ve seen.’

I stared at the torturers, at their sweat-soaked, balding pates, eyes glittering behind the masks. They were full of a malicious enjoyment at the sight of another human being torn to pieces. I followed the Minion up the steps back into Sejanus’s chamber.

‘Is Tibullus still alive?’

‘Yes, Excellency.’

‘Well, he won’t be by tomorrow morning. Right, Parmenon, were you party to this nonsense with Domina Agrippina?’

‘To some extent,’ I replied.

Sejanus glanced expectantly at me. ‘You need to do better than that, kinsman!’

‘Domina Agrippina was hysterical,’ I lied. ‘She recognised who I really was as soon as she met me at the Games. “I am your secretarius,” I announced. “No,” she hissed. “You are a spy!” She returned to the palace, where she started to make extravagant promises about what she could do for me.’

‘And?’

‘Excellency, I pretended to listen to her, until she told me to get out. Metellus went in to see her.’ I shrugged. ‘The rest you know.’

‘And would you send her to Capri?’ Sejanus asked.

I stared across at the secret door, which the Minion had closed. I took a step forward and one of the drapes moved.

‘No, Excellency, I wouldn’t risk it. Only the Gods know what kind of mischief she could get up to.’

Again the clicking tongue. I was in a cold sweat: the next few seconds would decide my life.

‘So, what do you advise, kinsman?’

‘According to public report,’ I blurted out, ‘a woman of the imperial family was attacked, the daughter of Germanicus. I saw the outrage on the soldiers’ faces: Agrippina’s story will be believed.’

Sejanus, cupping his chin in his hand, nodded.

‘If you do send her to Capri,’ I continued, ‘it could be dangerous. But if you refuse, you can be sure that some spy will carry the story to Capri and the Emperor might think someone is trying to hide something.’

‘Very good! Very good!’ Sejanus smiled. ‘Kinsman, pour yourself a goblet of wine.’

He pointed to the small dresser which stood between two pillars. I obeyed.

‘No, not for me!’ He barked as I started to fill a second cup. ‘You may be my kinsman, but it doesn’t mean I trust you.’ He held up his finger, displaying a large amethyst ring. ‘I carry poison in this ring, and you could do the same. Come on, sit in the chair. You look sly enough, Parmenon, but have you the brain to match? Tell me what you would advise, kinsman?’

I sat on the stool a few paces from him.

‘If you send an ordinary messenger,’ I replied, ‘the Emperor may still misunderstand.’

‘What do you know of the Emperor?’

‘Very little, your Excellency. I am merely a speck of dust under his sandal.’

‘Yes, yes, you are and I am that sandal.’

‘Then, Excellency, I would advise that you send the only witness to the incident, namely myself.’

Sejanus clapped his hands. ‘Very good, Parmenon. You will leave by trireme first thing tomorrow morning. You’ll go dressed in a tunic and sandals, with a cloak and nothing else.’ He paused. ‘Agrippina will try and give you a letter. What do you do then?’

‘I’ll be reluctant to accept it so she’ll bribe me. I will take it and hand it over to one of your men.’

Sejanus’s face crumpled into a smile.

‘Good and when you get to Capri?’

‘I will tell the Emperor, the Divine One, exactly what I told you: that Agrippina is becoming hysterical and Metellus was innocent of any crime.’

‘And the rest is up to your sharp wit. However,’ Sejanus picked up the wax tablet and pointed to where the secret door was, ‘my servant will accompany you. Give him Agrippina’s letter and he will study it carefully. He will also be my witness at your meeting with the Emperor so he’ll be able to report everything that you say. Be warned, when you go into the Emperor’s presence, make no reference to any religious belief or astrology. You must kneel and not raise your eyes. Above all, do not hold the Emperor’s gaze. He believes it’s one way demons can enter his soul. If possible, study the Divine One closely. When you return to Rome, I want to know everything you’ve seen and heard. Oh, by the way, Parmenon.’ He pointed to the goblet I was cradling. ‘That’s the very best Falernian, so drink it up.’

I did so quickly.

‘You are safe for now,’ Sejanus murmured. ‘However, my servant has his orders and if he suspects you of the slightest treachery towards me, you’ll never see Rome again. You may go!’

I was at the door when he called my name. I turned, to see that Sejanus was now sitting up on the edge of the couch. His face had lost that gentle conspiratorial look.

‘You did very well, Parmenon. Much better than I expected. You should celebrate with more wine tonight. You are a very lucky man.’

A guard took me back to Agrippina’s quarters. Darkness had now fallen and the gardens were lit by torches and lanterns. Praetorian guards patrolled in full view whilst others were hiding beneath cypress trees, in porticoes or recesses in the walls. My guide, a Praetorian officer, was dressed in half-armour and stank of sweaty leather. As we went through a side door leading to Agrippina’s quarters, the man hauled me into the shadows. I heard the scrape of metal and felt a sword tip press into my throat just beneath the chin.

‘What’s this?’ I murmured. ‘I have done no . . .’

The man pushed me up against the wall.

‘Can you be trusted?’ he asked.

Gods, I was on the verge of hysteria! ‘Trust?’ I yelped. ‘In this viper’s nest? Trust whom?’

‘Leave him be,’ a woman’s voice urged.

The man stepped back.

‘You have a few minutes,’ he whispered and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Agrippina stepped out of the darkness. She was swathed from chin to toe in a dark-blue military cloak smelling of horse piss and stables.

‘Quickly, tell me all!’ she urged.

‘I could have been killed!’ I hissed. ‘You knew Sejanus wouldn’t believe your story.’