The Nero Prediction (8 page)

“In Augustus’s Forum?”

“No, his mausoleum. Is anything the matter?"

There was. In spite of being Egyptian, I dreaded tombs.

Augustus's mausoleum, as I’ve mentioned before, stood on the bank of the Tiber, a short distance below the gardens where Messalina had died. Its huge circular concrete structure was covered by terraces that were planted with cypresses and surrounded by public walks. Lucius walked with me next to his mother's litter. As we approached the mausoleum the Sun struck sparks from the gilded statue on its summit, the statue of Augustus, Agrippina's great-grandfather. I did my best to keep up with Lucius's nimble chatter, much of it complaints about what a bore his new tutor Seneca was, but my mind was clouded with apprehension. There seemed more of them than usual, the eyes that followed me everywhere. Something was afoot but I didn't know what it was.

A crowd, made up mostly of older women who must have heard of Agrippina's visit, had gathered at the entrance. Agrippina waved gravely to them. Lucius blew kisses.

"Lucius! Lucius!" the women called back in delight.

Agrippina scowled at him. "Stop that, you are not a pantomime dancer and this is a tomb not a theater! "

She got out of her litter and we followed her into the cool, dark, damp interior. The vast dome, three hundred feet across and sixty feet high, loomed above twelve large niches populated by statues of the imperial family. The flickering torches brought them to life, their glass eyes reflecting the light so that they appeared to be subjecting their visitors to intense scrutiny. The hair on the back of my head prickled when I thought I saw the lips of one of them move.

There was a strange, unsettling undertone in Agrippina's voice that reminded me of honey laced with poison. "Come with us," Agrippina said to me, "I want you to meet everyone. As a Greek, you may not be so familiar with them as we Romans are."

The tomb was silent except for the distant dripping of water and Agrippina's whisper as she introduced me to the statue of a young man, fair-haired, handsome and proud. "Here he is, my eldest brother Nero, brilliant and brave." She kissed the painted stone lips. "Greetings brother. You were next in line for the purple, weren't you? Although you were only seventeen Tiberius decided that mother was rushing you to the throne so he put you both out of the way. Don't grieve Nero, I have not forgotten, you will live again."

Lucius yawned. "Mother, I'm hungry. Can we have lunch?"

"Certainly not. You haven't paid your respects to your grandfather. If you turn out to be half the emperor he would have been, your name will live forever."

"But mother, Tyrian purple smells like rotten oysters. I don't want to be emperor."

That's when we heard the rhythmic scratching of nails on the marble floor, a deep, menacing rumble like approaching thunder: a huge black dog was flying at us out of the tomb's endless twilight, its lips curling back from the twin daggers of its eyeteeth, its eyes shining demon-like.

I threw myself backwards, Lucius screamed, but Agrippina didn't flinch. The dog was five paces away, gathering itself for its leap at her throat, when arrows shot by Agrippina's hidden archers slithered out of the darkness. Through the stunned silence that followed the dog's dying yelps came the patter of running feet. I caught a glimpse of the runner. It was Basilicus, the man who'd made me copy Agrippina's star diary.

She let loose a crow of triumph. "Don't kill him!"

The Second Murder

February – March 49 A.D.

It took the tormentors until the first hour of night to break Basilicus. Agrippina watched it all and so did I because I was recording the interrogation.

Somehow he was able to take the whipping and the hot irons, insisting that he knew nothing beyond having to deliver a dog for sacrifice in the tomb, a dog which accidentally broke free. He was put on the horse.

This device, made of iron, was shaped like the animal's back and stood about four feet off the floor. The victim's hands were tied behind his back and he was placed in a riding position on top of it. Ropes, which passed through iron hoops on the floor on either side of the horse, were tied to his ankles. The loose ends of these ropes passed over two pulleys attached to the ceiling and were then attached to large buckets. As the buckets were gradually filled with lead weights, the steady downward pull on the legs was similar to the agony of the rack except that simultaneously the spine of the horse drove itself like a wedge upwards between the legs.

Sweat ran in rivulets down Basilicus's naked body but he still screeched out his innocence.

"Hoist him," Agrippina commanded.

A rope had been tied to his bound wrists, looped around a pulley directly above his head and then attached to a spoked capstan. As the capstan reeled in the rope Basilicus was lifted off the horse to the height of about four feet. The weight of his whole body plus the weight of the buckets of lead, devolved on his wrists which were awkwardly wrenched up his back.

His screams cut me like a razor. My hands shook uncontrollably, blotching the paper with sweat. Sooner or later, I knew, he would break. He would implicate me. What if I’d been wrong about Agrippina wanting me to copy her horoscope? Would it be my turn to ride the horse?

"Drop him," Agrippina said.

A short length of rope tied to a ring in the floor was attached to one of the capstan's spokes so that it would stop turning abruptly after having made half a revolution. As soon as this brake was attached, the men working the wheel disengaged the ratchet and let go of the spokes.

There was a momentary pause in Basilicus's howling as he dropped two feet followed by the snap of tightening rope and the dull wrench of ligaments being torn away from bone. He let out a terrible cry from where he hung suspended above the horse. This was followed by the sobbing of a broken spirit.

The gentle voice of the interrogator repeated the question for the hundredth time. "Who employed you to let the dog loose on the empress?"

"A woman, very rich. She saw the dog in the stars and in a dream."

"What is her name?"

"If I tell you, she will kill my children, I am a free man."

It was Agrippina's voice. "Hoist him again."

"Lollia Paulina," howled Basilicus over the creaking of the capstan and the clicking of the ratchet.

Again I heard it in Agrippina's voice, honey mixed with poison. "How much did she pay you?"

"Ten thousand... "

Again Agrippina: "Who was the man, the man in league with her, the man who plots to be emperor?"

"The only one I know of is the boy sitting next to you... He was given a million for the horoscope, your horoscope."

Very slowly, smoothly, like a snake turning its head towards its prey, Agrippina turned her face to me. There was no surprise in it, no emotion of any sort except for the darkness in the eyes. "It was Lollia Paulina. Have you got that down?"

I must have been close to fainting for she seemed to be talking to me from very far away. "Yes domina."

Basilicus's teeth chattered loudly. It looked as if his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.

Agrippina gazed at him impassively. "Drop him, all the way."

The retaining rope was detached, the ratchet released, the wheel let go.

Basilicus's scream ceased abruptly as the force of his fall drove the horse's spine deep into his groin. The weights attached to his ankles kept him in the riding position although his body slumped sideways from the waist. Blood streamed down his legs and dripped from his toes but there was no sign of life.

Agrippina rose. "If he's alive, crucify him."

The tormentor examined me, his light gray eyes curiously innocent. "Domina, in the light of what we have just heard, I request permission to question your note taker."

Agrippina looked at me. Her face was as calm as the surface of a sea under which frightful creatures lurked. "There is no need. We are going to see the emperor. Bring your notes, Epaphroditus and fetch the gold she gave you."

It took a hot bath and several oilings and scrapings to get rid of the stench of my terror. Euodus sat with me making small talk.

Afterwards he watched me consume half a bottle of wine and two helpings of pork sausage.

"What did you tell Claudius?" he asked.

"Everything of course. What I don't understand is why I'm eating sausages instead of hanging on a cross. Or worse, if there is such a thing."

"It's interesting, isn't it, how often destiny rewards the guilty and punishes the innocent? In fact it's one of the strongest proofs that it's Fate and not the gods who rules."

For once, it seemed, Euodus actually wanted to talk. I said, "But I made a copy of Agrippina's horoscope, how could she possibly forgive me for that?"

"Phah!” His green eyes danced with mischief. “Do you really think that was her horoscope?"

My head spun. "You mean it wasn't?" 

Euodus basked in my confusion. "Of course not. Nor was the star diary. They were both revised according to Agrippina's specifications."

I felt a warm glow of achievement, I had read her correctly. "All along Agrippina knew what I was doing."

"Of course. It was her idea."

"But how did she know the attack was going to take place in the Mausoleum?"

"Agrippina doctored the birth time of the version of her horoscope you copied for Lollia so that the Moon ruled Agrippina’s House of Calamities. Then she bribed Lollia's astrologer Ptolemy Seleucus."

 "Wasn't he Messalina's astrologer as well?"

"The same. Cost her the million she got back from you to get him to tell Lollia that Agrippina would be attacked by a dog the day that the transit Moon moved into the same longitude as Sirius the Dog Star, the one the Egyptians call the star of Isis. When she was told that Agrippina was going to visit Augustus’s mausoleum to join her dead family that very hour, Lollia took this as proof that Agrippina was destined to die there."

“Where did the dog come from?”

"Lollia had a mastiff trained to kill anyone with Agrippina's scent on it. They trained it by making slaves wear your mistress’s used laundry."

My smile tasted bitter as gall. "She used me as bait."

Euodus chuckled. "Yes. The worm wriggling on the hook. It's what you do best."

Claudius's address to the Senate was a long catalog of Lollia Paulina's illustrious ancestry and a short one of her crimes. Of course he got what he wanted: the Senate packed her off to the island of Pandateria.

Her return was the first secret I shared with young Lucius, just as the final, the fateful one, was the last. It was hot and humid, had been all week. When I heard him call I was cooling off in the night air on the little balcony that went along with the new room which Lucius had persuaded his mother to give me.

"Epaphroditus, where in Hades are you?"

The urgent tone of his voice hurried me inside. "Here dominus."

His freckled face was pale and his eyes wide. "Come quickly. Lollia Paulina's returned. Mother insists on seeing her right away. They hate each other. I think there may be a fight."

I followed Lucius down the corridor, trying to make sense of what he'd said. Exiles of imperial rank seldom returned from Pandateria. He took me through his own rooms to an antechamber that led to Agrippina's private suite. Instead of a door there was a heavy curtain.

Lucius opened it a chink. "Look, she's waiting. She's been waiting all day."

Instead of reclining, Agrippina sat motionless in a chair, just the way she'd sat the morning they delivered me to her. Illuminating her was a candelabra which stood near her right shoulder. The candles flickered as a female slave, black as ebony, stirred the air with a huge peacock-feather fan. There was the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened. A colonel of the guard entered. I recognized him instantly. He was the man who had helped Messalina stab herself. With him was a slave who carried a box.

He saluted. "Hail Agrippina!"

 She indicated the little citron-wood table in front of her. "Here."

"It's much decayed, domina," said the colonel. "The hot weather and contrary winds on the way back from Pandateria -"

Agrippina brushed away his objections with the back of her hand. The slave placed the box on the table, opened it, lifted out a severed head by its long black hair. The face was blotched and slick with putrefaction. The eyes were pockets of milkish colored gelatin. A waft of air from the peacock fan carried with it the sickly-sweet stench of rotted flesh.

Lucius gasped so loud that for a moment I was afraid we would be discovered. "Don't look at it, you'll be turned to stone," he whispered in a tiny voice. "It's Medusa."

But Agrippina stared at it and so did I. "I told you to pack it in salt," she said.

"We did, domina, but with the delay and the humid weather it came out looking like this."

Her voice was as firm as a rock. "Closer," she said to the slave. "Open the mouth." The hair began to tear out of the rotted scalp as the slave struggled to obey.

"The jaw is locked by rigor mortis, " said the colonel.

Agrippina was beginning to sound impatient. "Lift the upper lip, I want to see her teeth." But the lips had solidified. She whispered, "Hold the chin."  Leaning forward she forced the top lip upwards with her thumbs, baring the teeth. Her sigh of relief was audible, even behind the curtain. "It is her. Colonel, you will find that two of the upper teeth are capped with pearls. They are yours. Burn the rest."

The head disappeared back into the box, the colonel and the slave out the door.

Agrippina choked. "A basin, water... quickly…" .

Lucius plucked at my robe. We stole away to the sound of her vomiting.

Eleven months after Lollia's death, at fifty three minutes after noon on the February 25, the instant when the full Moon, still below the horizon, was precisely opposite the Sun, Claudius adopted Agrippina’s son and Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus became Nero Claudius Drusus Caesar and his mother was granted the right to style herself Augusta. The boy was twelve years old.