The Nero Prediction (33 page)

A little self-deprecating laugh. "Yes."

"Talk to anyone in particular?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"Hmm. Do you remember seeing senator Flavius Scaevinus?"

"Scaevinus? No, I don't think so."

Once again Nero tilted his head as if to indicate that something was askew. "You sure?"

"Pretty sure Augustus, we haven't been seeing that much of each other lately."

"You haven't?"

"Well, I might have said hello."

Nero shook his head in genial disbelief. "What? Didn't even swap the latest tidbits of gossip with him?"

"Certainly not Caesar, we're really not that close any more."

Nero looked at Tigellinus and back at Natalis who by this time was cramming his handkerchief into his mouth. "Oh dear, someone is lying to me. Tigellinus, see if you can get the truth out of them."

Tigellinus gave his prisoners a guided tour of the torture chambers. The sight of the instruments had Natalis dabbing his eyes.

Tigellinus's smile was a sharp ivory knife. "Pretty, aren't they? However if you come to your senses there's no need to make their acquaintance. In fact I'm sure I can talk Caesar into a full pardon that will have you back home in time for dinner."

Scaevinus's cheeks flushed as if he’d attacked a wine sack. "Tigellinus, how dare you try to frighten us with your ugly little toys, we're Roman citizens! Just wait until the Senate hears how far you've gone on nothing more than the word of a vindictive ex-slave!"

Nero was still in his bedroom when we returned. The corridor was full of fire-breathing Germans. Spiculus flashed his quick gray eyes over us as we pushed our way to the door. I was certain that he could have killed us both as quickly as it takes an angry wasp to sting.

Nero was playing discords on his kithara. "You didn't really threaten them with torture did you Tigellinus? You know that's not allowed."

"That rotten egg Natalis is on the point of cracking, Caesar. All he needs is a tap."

"Out of the question, not only is he a citizen, he's a knight!"

"He could be stripped of his citizenship."

"Stripped? On what grounds?"

"Treason."

"You're going around in circles. You can't prove treason until he confesses, he won't confess unless he's tortured, he can't be tortured... Oh, you know what I mean."

"I think I can cut the circle."

"How?"

"Epicharis."

“Ah, the tasty morsel Epaphroditus locked up in a love nest!”

"Yes. She's a mistress of Seneca's brother Mela, remember, and both Seneca and Mela are friends of Scaevinus. It's quite obvious now that she got wind of the plot."

Nero's gloomy expression brightened. He chewed on his lips. "We still have her?"

That icy light in the velvet eyes. "Yes Caesar, we do. And she's not a citizen."

Pain And Poison

April 15 – April 18, 65 A.D.

Epicharis's eyes, wide and wet, stayed fixed to mine while they stripped her and tied her to the whipping block, eyes which accused me of breaking my promise not to let them torture her but told me that she loved me anyway.

The whip bit into her firm flesh, I don't know how many times, without wringing a sound from her. All the while her eyes boiled in the same hot glue as mine. I was faintly aware of how the whistling leather sent wave after wave of shock through her body, how it threw her head backwards and heaved her breasts into the air. But my eyes didn't stray from hers, couldn't. It was her concentration on me that halved the pain, the fact that I was sharing it because I loved her.

Her fierce eyes dimmed, her head fell forward, her body went limp. The lash fell twice more in vain.

"Stop!" It was Tigellinus. "Water."

A bucket of water splashed over her. Tinted with blood, it ran into the grating under her naked feet.

She woke from her faint. Her eyes found mine, clung to them. The tormentor raised his whip.

Tigellinus shook his head. "The irons."

They were in the smoldering brazier which, in spite of the ventilation shaft above it, had filled the room with a thin haze of blue smoke.

My eyes tore themselves away from Epicharis's to watch the tormentor hang up the whip. He lifted the cherry-red branding iron by its wooden handle and tapped it on the edge of the brazier to shake off the loose particles of glowing coal.

I didn't want to look into Epicharis's eyes again but there was that little matter of Nero's time of birth that I must help her keep to herself. Her body stiffened as the iron sizzled against her flank, somewhere at the bottom of my field of vision. Her mouth dragged itself open. A scream, half formed, escaped from the grip of her resolve and fled up her throat, out of her lips, an aborted scream, never meant to see the light of day.

The tormentor grinned at this, the first commendation of his skill. He rotated the iron, grinding it into the bubbling wound. When the flesh no longer sizzled he returned the iron to the fire.

Tigellinus stood up, his boots creaking in the silence as he walked up to Epicharis who was breathing evenly and deeply, her face set in concentration, steeling herself for her next bout with agony. He put his hand under her chin, lifted it. Her eyes didn't flinch when they met his. He ran his fingers down her cheek, slick with sweat.

His tone was affectionate, a ghastly touch. "You're a beautiful woman, and a brave one Epicharis. But you'll tell the truth sooner or later so why not make it sooner while you still have your beauty, the use of these lovely young limbs? What's the point in waiting until you are disjointed and disfigured? Will the man you are trying to protect love you then? Won't he be disgusted by the hideous cripple you've become? Even if you escape the cross, the most you'll have to look forward to is a miserable life on crutches in some hovel in the provinces. Come on woman, you've already proved yourself braver than the man who has left you rotting in prison for a month without lifting a finger to help you. Flush him out from under your skirts. Let's see him stand on his own two feet!"

Like arrows on bows fully drawn back, Epicharis pointed her eyes at me. "There is no conspiracy," she said. "You can force me to invent one, but that won't make any difference. There is no conspiracy, don't you understand that?"

The dungeon rang with the slap that Tigellinus administered to her face. His violet eyes seemed to be consuming her. "You lie! "

Blood ran from the corner of her mouth as she spoke. There was fury in her voice. "Names? You want me to give you names? Write me a list, put any name you like on there, it doesn't matter to me. I'll recite them all like a parrot, word for word. Will that satisfy you?"

Tigellinus shook his head. "No it won't. Put her on the rack."

 In principle the rack worked like the horse except that instead of stretching only the victim's legs, it applied steady and increasingly agonizing traction to all four limbs. I listened to the ratchet click, each time more sharply with the increase of tension. Epicharis's body stiffened. Her head shook with the struggle to control the pain. Another click from the ratchet as the wheels turned. A scream clawed its away out of her throat, then another.

Tigellinus turned to the colonel standing behind him. "Bring Natalis."

Epicharis was still shrieking, a hopeless, mindless, primeval sound that scratched at the eardrums and resonated in the bones, when the little knight was pushed through the door.

His face was the color of egg yolk and his lips were fluttering with fear. "Look here," he said to Tigellinus, "this has gone far enough. I demand to see the emperor."

That coal dark smile. "It's already too late for that."

Natalis's mouth opened. His tongue wet his lips. His voice, barely audible above the screams, wore only the bare shreds of indignation. "What do you mean 'too late'?"

"What? I can't hear you." said Tigellinus. "Let's go next door where we can talk. You too Epaphroditus. Bring your stylus."

The cell had a narrow slit of a window high in the wall that separated it from the torture chamber. Through it came Epicharis's shrieks, now punctuated with heart-rending sobs.

"What do you mean, 'too late'?" Natalis repeated.

Again Tigellinus ignored him. "Bring him a heavy set of chains," he told the Praetorian.

The knight gave up the struggle to keep the tremor of panic out of his voice. "What do you think you're doing? What do you mean by 'too late'?"

"Too late to see Nero. She's already named you. You're a traitor. The revocation of your citizenship is a mere formality that can be speeded up. You'll be changing places with her within twenty minutes."

"No!" It was a word that raced all the way from Natalis's toes, gaining momentum as it went.

"Very well then, I'll help you if I can but I need to know everything, right now."

"My citizenship?"

"All depends on what you tell me."

Natalis glanced at me.

My stylus was poised above the wax tablet. I was willing this little man to talk so that her pain would stop.

There was a loud click of the ratchet. Epicharis screeched. Natalis shook with fright. "All right, I'll tell you what I know but you have to stop that, I can't think with that going on."

Tigellinus nodded at the colonel. A few moments later the screaming stopped.

Natalis mopped at his face with his pink handkerchief. "I'm not one of them, I want to make that clear from the start. I've got absolutely nothing against Nero. In fact I think he's a musical genius. The only reason I know what's going on is because I got into this ... well, wager."

Tigellinus nodded as if a wager was quite the most obvious and compelling reason to be involved in treason. "A wager."

"Yes, believe it or not. That drunken sot Scaevinus bet me ten thousand that the emperor's going to die at the Games today, he believes it's in Nero’s stars." A grin that looked like a tree fungus. "I've made a lot of money betting against astrology."

"Who else is involved?"

"Piso and Seneca and all the rest of the Stoic brethren as they like to call themselves. They're all sure this is the day he's destined to die.”

Tigellinus's smile was positively genial, his interest in the conspiracy no more than mischievous. "And who were the others?"

"I've already told you, most of them were at that reception of Seneca's down in Baiae, the one Epaphroditus went to instead of Nero. That really got their backs up."

"But Epaphroditus isn't one of them, is he?"

Natalis glanced at me. There was a malicious glitter in his eyes. "Not as far as I know."

"I see. Look, you're going to have to be more specific, if you want me to help you. I need more names, important names."

Natalis rattled off a few. Nobodies.

A trace of impatience. "Natalis, I need you to do better than that. I want the ringleaders."

"I'd tell you if I could, but you'll have to ask Scaevinus. He's the one who told me what little I know. Did it when he was in his cups."

Tigellinus turned his back on Natalis. "Take him away. Bring in Scaevinus."

The senator's eyes darted around as if he expected to be surprised by some dreadful scene of carnage. Wherever they'd put him, it had obviously been close enough to hear Epicharis.

Tigellinus indicated a stool. "Sit down, Scaevinus, there's something I want you to listen to."

I read him my notes of Natalis's interrogation.

Tigellinus interrupted me at the point that Natalis reeled off the list of nobodies. "I won't bore you with all the names, it goes on and on, knights, senators, the lot. Now what have you got to say for yourself?"

Even the red spots of color had drained from the senator's cheeks. A sad, sweet little smile of self-pity took up residence on his lips. "The fool, selling out his country to win a paltry wager. Well at least he's made certain that I won't be around to pay up, that's a consolation. In fact I'm going to make sure he gets nothing. I'll make a bargain with you, Tigellinus. I'll tell you everything I know if you make certain that the dishonorable cur doesn't get one penny from my estate."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A plot of enormous scope against the ruler of the world was unraveling because of a wager!

Tigellinus's lips puckered as he savored the humor of it all. "All right, Scaevinus, if I'm satisfied with what you give me."

"Names? Piso and Seneca and so on, all Nero's friends of course, at one time or another, the ones closest to him, who know what a mockery he's making of his position. Lucan, he admires Lucan, thinks he’s a greater poet than Virgil. Yes Lucan is one of us." The sad smile spread. "All the best people."

"You're going to have to be more specific if you want me make sure that Natalis doesn't get away with it."

The senator shook his head at the injustice of it all. "All those free dinners and then he goes and cheats me ... There were a lot of other people but I don't know their names. We were organized in cells, each group self-contained. Oh, except for that fat degenerate, Afranius Quintianus, did Natalis give you that one?"

Afranius Quintianus, he of the bald pate and blubbery mauve lips, eyed me morosely. Lack of sleep had given him the bloodshot eyes of a sow. "Caesar, there's no need to search the Senate for enemies. We are your friends and admirers. The evil lies much closer to you, here in your own palace."

This was the next morning. There were Praetorians at strategic points all over the city. Already alerted that something dreadful had happened by the news that the Games of Ceres had been cancelled, people crowded into the streets, numb with shock. Ominous rumors had already spread to the surrounding countryside. People stood on hilltops, on the roofs of houses, staring at Rome, wondering.

Nero squinted to bring the rotund senator into focus. "What do you mean?"

"Only that your Secretary of Petitions has a pet diviner named Thallus whom he has been using to manipulate you."

This news was so momentous that it took a few moments to sink in. Weak blue eyes blinked at me out of a puzzled face. "Epaphroditus?"