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NERO By Pueros Chapter XXIV – Incest (Domus of Agrippina the Younger, Rome, dies Solis A.D. XVIII Kal. Ian. DCCCII A.V.C., in the 7th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [Sunday, 15th December, AD 48]) ‘Hoc tempore obsequium amicos, veritas odium parit.’ (‘These days flattery provides friends, the truth provides hatred.’) - Terence It was the 11th anniversary of the birth of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus. Fortunately, I was no longer the slave assigned to the personal service of Sribonia and Tullia whilst they visited the obnoxious boy’s palatial home to celebrate his birthday. Not only had the girls long since fallen out with Agrippina’s offspring in favour of establishing friendly relations with the son of Messalina, Britannicus, but also they had been disgraced and exiled to Africa and I was their servant no more. It was Apollinus who instead had to endure the short journey to Agrippina’s domus but, as he was one of those attending the delightful Britannicus, inevitably accompanied by young Titus Flavius Vespasianus, his excursion was not as unpleasant as mine had been to the lair of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus. Despite the shameful demise of his mother, Messalina, the 7 year-old prince was still the only son of, and likely heir to, the Emperor and was therefore afforded the respect that this status entitled him to from everyone, albeit secretly very begrudgingly from the birthday boy and his parent. Nevertheless, Apollinus’ enjoyment of the occasion might have been improved if the young host had not decided to treat his many, approximately equally young guests to a recital of his lyre playing. The numbers suffering had been boosted this year by the increase in acceptances of invitations to attend, caused by the desire of obsequious fathers and mothers to please Agrippina, who was a strong candidate to become the Emperor’s fourth wife. Naturally, Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus had not considered such a factor to be relevant to the abrupt upsurge in the number of guests and new young acquaintances, most of who were encouraged by ambitious parents to fawn over and make friends with the birthday boy. The new 11 year-old instead believed that it was his talented personality that had suddenly improved his popularity. Several of the young guests, including Britannicus and Titus, discreetly placed their fingers in their ears to try to shield their senses from the far from melodic noise that now permeated Agrippina’s domus. Even Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus’ current tutor, Anicetus, and personal attendant, 16 year-old Epaphroditus, both of whom were slaves, quietly quivered in anguish as their auditory systems were assailed by the terrible racket. “Why doesn’t someone tell him that he has no musical skills?” Britannicus eventually asked of Titus as the background drone continued relentlessly. “I don’t think that anyone has the guts,” the prince’s best friend replied, “as he is, after all, a member of the Imperial Julio-Claudian line like you are, and also great nephew to your own father.” “Please,” Britannicus begged, “please tell me, as a true confidant, if I ever lean towards similar unthinking vainglory. I’d hate to become someone like him.” “Don’t worry, I will!” Titus, himself from a relatively humble family, originally of equestrian muleteers, answered with a smile, knowing that he would never have to comply with the prince’s request, given his best friend’s undoubted opposite character. Meanwhile, in the quieter, more tolerable surrounds of an adjacent chamber, Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus’ 33 year-old mother was in conversation with three of those affiliated to her cause and aspiration to become the next Empress, invariably for what they could personally accrue from the alliance. All had recently and frequently enjoyed the Imperial niece’s bed and body to cement with spermatic fluid the conspiratorial association amidst passionate union. Present were Pallas, Claudius’ enormously wealthy middle-aged freedman in charge of state finances, Aulus Vitellius, who was the same age as his female host, and Agrippina’s latest paramour, 22 year-old Faenius Rufus. Pallas wanted to strengthen his place as one of the principal Imperial freedman, possibly even replacing Narcissus as the main de-facto prime minister. Aulus Vitellius, now single after falsely accusing his former wife and brother-in-law of incest, hoped to improve his status further by being betrothed to the Emperor’s 9 year-old daughter, Octavia. Faenius Rufus looked forward to securing a lucrative state sinecure or two. “I really must find my son a better tutor,” Agrippina observed on hearing the awful bellow from nearby, for she was rarely one to overrate her offspring’s talents. However, a misjudgement of him would one day not only surprise her but also prove personally costly. “Now the whore’s finally met her just end,” Agrippina then suggested with vengeful relish, “how do I overcome the other challengers to marry that dolt Claudius, when I’m the daughter of his late brother and the law says that a union between uncle and niece is incest?” All three male guests appreciated that their female host was not averse to indulging in such sin if her interests dictated because it was well known that she, like her two sisters, had often slept with their brother, the present Emperor’s predecessor, Gaius Caligula. However, none yet knew that she would also eventually practise the vice with a member of the younger generation of her family. “Well,” Pallas answered, “I’m sure that you can use your undoubted allures to encourage the Princeps to have the law changed. After all, the Senate and the other offices of state are currently, especially after the bloodbath of the recent coup, completely submissive to Imperial will. If Claudius says that he wants the law on incest changed, I can assure you that it will be changed!” “Hmmm,” Agrippina muttered, whilst thinking of the physically ancient and imperfect Emperor, “it’ll be distasteful but I think that I can secure what I want from the old, deformed, decrepit and foolish lecher!” Her three male guests were all also sure that their beautiful but ruthlessly unprincipled female host could achieve her ambitions through the incestuous seduction of the most powerful man in the world. (Domus of Aulus Plautius, Rome, shortly afterwards) ‘De mortuis nihil nisi bene.’ (‘Nothing but good about the dead.’) -Cheilon of Sparta, as quoted by Horace Whilst their own sons were attending the birthday celebrations of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, although out of courtesy for someone else in the top echelons of Roman society rather than obsequiousness, Pomponia Graecina and her husband, Aulus Plautius, were also engaged in conversation. An important vacancy had just arisen in one of the businesses owned by the great general, albeit proprietorship was kept secret, by use of nominal front-men. It was frowned upon for patricians to be engaged in commerce, even though most of the upper class were hypocritically so involved in some way. Only the equestrian and lower orders were supposed to be entrepreneurs. The business in question was a select funeral service, which offered high-class departures to the underworld for the affluent. The enterprise was very lucrative, given that many rich patricians and equestrians had met untimely and unnatural ends of late, particularly during the reigns of the current holder of the purple and his two predecessors. Some had met their sad fates because of direct or indirect connections to opposition to the Principates, whereas some just incurred, because of their wealth or influence, the envy of the Emperors, members of the Imperial family or their chief servants. Others were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time during the many upheavals within top Roman society. The nominal head of the funeral service was a retired freedman of Aulus Plautius but the real overseer had been a younger highly capable slave, who had unfortunately succumbed to the typhus fatally caught by one of his clients. Although the other workers within the business were also very good at what they did, none seemed capable of actually managing the enterprise. The great general and his wife were therefore discussing a replacement from elsewhere. “He’s too young,” Aulus Plautius suggested. “But you yourself said,” Pomponia Graecina gently retorted, “that’s he’s very clever, able, reliable, good at supervising and excellent with his hands.” “On live bodies!” replied Aulus Plautius. “Well, as yours isn’t far from its grave,” Pomponia Graecina jested, appreciating that her husband would enjoy the joke, “his bathing and massaging of your form must just be like readying the dead for the underworld!” The debate continued for a while but, as usual in such situations, Aulus Plautius had already recognised that he was about to lose. The great general might have conquered half of Britannia, and enjoyed many other victories and a rare ovation, but he never bettered his beloved wife in argument. However, compensation for his eventual inevitable surrender was gained by appreciating that his spouse was hardly ever proved wrong. Nigerinus was then summoned into the presence of his master and mistress and asked whether he would accept a new job, with far greater responsibility and reward than enjoyed at present. The now 18 year-old black nullified eunuch accepted the position, although he wondered how he would cope with supervising many older slaves and handling dead bodies. In the event, he literally managed very well indeed. Apollinus and I were to be very grateful for Nigerinus’ discreet efficiency at his work during the years to come. (Domus of Palaemon’s residential pupils, plebeian quarter, Rome, same time) ‘Idem velle atque idem nolle, ea demum firma amicitia est.’ (‘The same in intentions and disinclinations is what makes a firm friendship.’) - Sallust (‘Bellum Catilinae’) Persius and Quintilianus were in the privacy of their bedchamber with their fresh roommate, Marcus Annaeus Lucanus, whom they now knew just by his the first letter of his cognomen. The naked P and Q, on top of the latter’s bed, were, at fourteen, 5 years older than the still attired ‘L’. They were also presently unashamedly engaged in one of their favourite pastimes, with their new friend discretely watching, whilst lying on his own bunk pretending to read a scroll. Such flagrant activity by Persius and Quintilianus in front of the young newcomer was a carry over from when Gaius and Hylas had shared their quarters. P and Q had thought it natural to continue to pursue their common pleasurable pastime without abashment or concealment, believing that, if Lucanus was really a close friend, the younger boy would not be embarrassed by or mind the pursuit. The 14 year-olds instead anticipated that the 9 year-old would be pleased to be a confidant of the frequent affectionate intimate scenes, their attitude influenced by a hope that the youngster might one day join them in mutual masturbation or even more adventurous sexual practices. Lucanus’ own attitude actually matched most of the wishes of Persius and Quintilianus, although his genuine calm interest at proceedings did not yet render him ready to share his friends’ indulgences. The 9 year-old was instead attempting to read some works by the ancient Greek writer, Archilochus, who had been dead for about 700 years. ‘I won’t use surgery,’ the passage revealed, ‘I know another sovereign remedy for a growth of this description.’ Simultaneously, P’s manual attentions to Q’s cock caused the latter to erupt like a fountain of milk. L could not help but utter a loud giggle at the coincidence. (Domus of Aulus Plautius, Rome, shortly afterwards) ‘Mirabile dictu.’ (‘Wonderful to relate.’) - Virgil (‘Aeneid’) Aulus Plautius junior and Aulus Plautius Suffuscus, respectively almost 5 and 11 years old, arrived back at their palatial domus to be greeted personally by their adoring parents who, unlike many Roman patricians, rejoiced in the company of their children. “How did you enjoy Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus’ party?” enquired their mother, Pomponia Graecina. “It was dreadful,” Suffuscus answered first before his younger brother happily concurred. “Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus,” the older boy continued, “was again insufferable, trying to dominate proceedings and show off.” “Well, it was his birthday, dear,” Pomponia Graecina replied, in a useless effort to try to excuse the young host’s pomposity. “Still no reason for being so obnoxious,” Suffuscus responded before recalling with clear glee “although he did receive a marvellous comeuppance to everyone’s enjoyment.” “I hope you weren’t involved,” interrupted the 10 year-old’s loving but concerned adoptive male parent. “No, father,” the boy advised, “as I couldn’t disobey your instruction not to upset the Emperor’s great nephew and so potentially sour our relationships with the Imperial family. Instead, it was another who perpetrated the deed!” “That nice Britannicus,” Suffuscus continued, “eventually told Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus to his face that he had as much respect from everyone for his character and talent as had one of Titus’ family mules. The birthday boy burst into tears and went running for his mother, and thankfully the party broke up shortly afterwards.” “And what did Agrippina do to regain her offspring’s honour?” asked an intrigued Pomponia Graecina. “Well, she certainly didn’t respond as I’m sure you would have done, mother,” Suffuscus answered, knowing that both his adoptive parents would have extracted appropriate verbal vengeance on anyone who dared to insult their sons. “Instead,” the 10 year-old informed, “she simply appears to have sent him back to say polite thanks and farewells to his guests, including Britannicus, which the birthday boy did but with clear reluctance and with humiliation and hatred in his eyes.” “Let’s therefore hope,” Pomponia Graecina sagely commented, “that Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus never emerges as someone more important than Britannicus within the Imperial clan or Claudius’ young son might live to regret such actions!” Conversation then moved on to maternal reporting of Nigerinus’ promotion. Suffuscus, ever bravely curious, then requested “Can I sometimes go to watch him whilst he works?” Even the boy’s usually equally adventurous younger brother thought that the 10 year-old’s interest was going too far in his quest to acquire knowledge. Discourse, however, was quickly diverted to yet another topic when Aulus Plautius teased his sons by disclosing “I’ve been asked to attend a small dinner at the Imperial palace for the Emperor’s closest friends, celebrating the New Year. As Britannicus will also be present, guests’ sons are invited too. Do you know of a pair of boys who might be interested in accompanying me?” The great general was immediately physically assailed, albeit gently, by a 10 and a 4 year-old shouting over and over, with arms raised in signal, “Us!” (Imperial palace, Rome, dies Martis Prid. Kal. Ian. DCCCII A.V.C., in the 7th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [Tuesday, 31st December, AD 48]) ‘The first course will be a lettuce, a useful digestive aid, and tender shoots cut from leek plants, and then a pickled young tuna which is larger than a small lizard fish and will be garnished with eggs and rue leaves. And there will be more eggs, those cooked over a low flame, and cheese from Velabrum Street, and olives which have felt the Picene cold. That’s enough for the appetizers….You want to know what else we are having? Fish, oysters, sow’s udder, stuffed wild fowl and barnyard hens….’ - Martial (‘Epigrams’, 11.52) As for most of the upper classes, Claudius’ breakfast, or ‘jentaculum’, if indulged, and lunch, or ‘prandium’, were simple light affairs of vegetables with bread, or porridge with olives, dates and cheese. ‘Cena’, or dinner, was more substantial, especially if he was in company. However, fortunately for my conservative stomach, ostentatious fare was reserved for state occasions, which were currently rarely held, after Messalina’s demise, because the Emperor now preferred the more intimate company of those he considered to be genuine friends, who were more easily identifiable after the recent coup. The Princeps particularly delighted in people who either could offer interesting conversation, such as his generals who were full of campaign stories, or shared his taste for gambling. For these intimate dinner parties, cena was taken in a room much smaller than most of those in the resplendent palace on the Palatine. I suspect that this dining facility was deliberately designed to replicate the cosiness of a ‘triclinium’ in the domus of an ordinary Roman patrician, if there is such a creature. The layout of the Imperial furniture was as it would be in such a dining room, with three large couches, each accommodating three people, arranged around three sides of a large but low table. The couches, or ‘lecti’, are named ‘sumus’, ‘medius’ and ‘imus’, respectively top, middle and bottom. Diners are placed according to their social rank, from the ‘lectus sumus’ downwards, although the guest of honour, or ‘locus consularis’, usually sits, or more generally reclines, on the ‘medius’, adjacent to the host on the ‘imus’. Members of the host’s family, such as his wife or freedmen, also respectfully lie on the ‘lectus imus’, in the places of lowest status. As in the homes of some rich patricians, two tables for nine people each were occasionally set out, whilst the gathering was still classified as an intimate affair. Tonight was such an occasion. Free adult diners lie on the couches to eat, leaning on their left elbows, because sitting is traditionally considered suitable only for children, who perch themselves on stools, or for any off-duty slaves permitted to eat with the family, who receive permission to recline like their masters only on holidays. Fingers are the main utensils for devouring the proffered fare, although spoons are used for certain dishes. Attendant slaves wipe the hands of diners between courses, although all guests also customarily bring their own napkins, both for manual cleansing and to carry leftovers home.
Bad manners are often encouraged by this custom. Many guests, having fished for invitations from rich hosts, try to grab enough food to last them until their next invitation. The poet Martial, whom I was to both meet and know well, summed this habit neatly. He wrote ‘Whatever is served, you sweep off from this or that part of the table: the teats of a sow’s udder and a rib of pork, and a heathcock meant for two, half a mullet, and a bass whole, and the side of a murry, and the leg of a fowl, and a pigeon dripping with its white sauce. These dainties, when they have been hidden in your sodden napkin, are handed over to your boy to carry home: we recline at table, an idle crowd. If you have any decency, restore our dinner. I did not invite you……..to a meal tomorrow!”
On this particular occasion, many of the main guests, all of whom were accompanied by their sons if they possessed any, were generals who had gained the confidence of Claudius. The Emperor had astutely recognised his own limitations in military matters and he onsequently appreciated the need to keep the armies and their leaders both happy and loyal, particularly at this time of post-coup uncertainty. The guests with army backgrounds included Aulus Plautius, Titus Flavius Vespasianus and Servius Sulpicius Galba. I recognised the first man from his rapturous reception from the crowd when attending games in the circus and amphitheatre with Claudius, and the latter pair from Caius Silius’ great feast of over two years previously. Those with few or no military connections included the father of Marcus Salvius Otho, who had won high praise and promotion from the Emperor for uncovering and reporting an early plot against my new Imperial master’s Principate. Unfortunately, the obnoxious Aulus Vitellius, who had once sexually enjoyed me at a later and literally more intimate dinner hosted by my former master, was also present. I could tell from the smirk that this patrician usually displayed, when he occasionally glanced at me, that he too remembered our previous meeting, despite the fact that I was undoubtedly only one of many boys and girls he had forcibly molested over the years. 53 year-old Servius Sulpicius Galba had served the Emperors Tiberius and Gaius Caligula, as well as Claudius. He came from an ancient family, which claimed ancestry back to Jupiter, and had himself been a possible candidate for the purple almost eight years earlier, before the intervention of the Praetorians had brought the Principate to the present incumbent after the assassination of his predecessor. I was soon to learn that this stalwart of noble lineage sometimes kept bad company. He had brought a handsome young man, presumably his current bedfellow, in lieu of a son with him. I recognised this companion, again from Caius Silius’ festivities, as Titus Vinius. Titus Vinius had been in Petronius’ company at my late master’s parties but I had later learnt from Apollinus’ beloved that the pair was no longer friends. The ‘elegentiae arbiter’ had preferred not to tell me why this break-up had occurred but I was soon to discover the reason on my own. Claudius’ wine was served in his favourite golden goblet, adorned with precious jewels. The cup had been a gift of his friend from childhood, the Jewish prince Herod Agrippa, who had lived mainly in Rome until becoming ruler of Judaea almost ten years prior to this dinner. However, Herod Agrippa had then adopted a more independent line than befitted a client king and probably only his death five years later had prevented some confrontation between him and the Emperor. Nevertheless, Claudius treasured the memories of his dead friend. The golden goblet was therefore very precious to the Emperor not only for the cup’s inherent monetary worth but also for the vessel’s sentimental value. The evening’s most precious courses were molluscs, happily described by the Imperial host as having being harvested under a waxing moon, sea urchins from Misenum, oysters from Circeii, scallops from Tarentum and Umbrian boar, supposedly raised on acorns. The food was served by young and attractive slaves of both genders, whilst entertainers offered poetry readings, music and dancing. As I knew well, at patrician homes, flirting and sexual encounters sometimes took place but not at Claudius’ table. Instead, heavy drinking, with increasingly inebriated conversation or gambling, continued well past the serving of the final dish. Decorum whilst dining was, in my opinion, undermined by the Roman philosophical dictum, and consequent practice, which advocated that the highest wisdom was to allow, without objection or distaste, the dictates of nature to follow their normal course. Nature’s dictates were taken to include passing wind, both orally and via the other end, and spitting, and even, in some places, although not at the Imperial court, urinating in full view of the other guests. As evidence of the latter unpleasant habit, Martial described in one of his works some diners who snapped their fingers to summon slaves to help them relieve themselves into chamber pots without leaving the table. He even mentioned some guests who, in order to prolong the enjoyment of the feast, induced vomiting to create room to eat more. The writer, Juvenal, also told of one especially repulsive woman who ‘souses the floor with the washings of her insides….she drinks and vomits like a big snake that has tumbled into a vat’. My presence at the Emperor’s New Year party meant that I was unable to attend the customary function at the domus of Palaemon, where I had spent the eve of DCCCI with my beloved Gaius, whilst still a slave of Caius Silius. Apollinus was also unable to be with Petronius until later because my Greek friend was at the Imperial dinner with me, albeit just for the early stages before his young charge eventually succumbed to tiredness. However, my personal disappointment was somewhat assuaged by the fact that Claudius’ company was tonight, with the exception of Aulus Vitellius and, as I was soon to discover, Titus Vinius, not unpleasant. The boys present, who happily did not include Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus at the all-male gathering because he did not currently possess a father, seemed particularly pretty and nice, although few took particular notice of me. One exception was a handsome youth, recently awarded his toga virilis, denoting ascent to manhood, whom I was to learn was Marcus Salvius Otho. The 16 year-old not only gave me many lecherous looks during dinner but also occasionally, whilst supposedly passing behind me to go to the toilet, furtively reached under the short hemline of my white and purple Imperial tunic to pinch my bottom. This once caused me to spill some wine, luckily none over the Emperor, although Claudius noticed my clumsiness, but not the reason for it, and jokingly admonished me by declaring “I hope you’re not reverting to your old ways!” One of Marcus Salvius Otho’s ambitions for the night came to my knowledge when, instead of pinching me again as he was leaving for the toilet once more, he whispered in my ear “Want to join me for some fun?” I declined politely but he kindly did not seem to mind too much, declaring with a smile “You don’t know what you’re missing!” Actually, I would find out one day, although for now the young patrician simply moved his attention to another pretty boy slave. I later noticed that the pair disappeared for a while, before eventually returning with faces clearly flushed as a result of recent excitement. Apollinus was attending to Britannicus who, as he frequently did, lit up the occasion just by his presence. However, it was another young boy who caused me astonished delight. He was a brown haired and eyed pretty youngster, apparently with an even younger brother. The boy, whom I estimated to be about 10 or 11 years of age, also regularly stared at me during the earlier part of the evening, as I stood adjacent to the Emperor. I thought that he seemed to recognise me from somewhere, and the feeling was mutual. As the night progressed and the adult guests consumed more wine, the environment became much more informal. This eventually allowed the boy, of whom I speak, to approach me and, in a very friendly manner, quietly say “Hello. I don’t suppose you remember me.” I had to confess “I seem to recall your face from somewhere, young master, but I’m afraid that I don’t know where.” “Oh,” the boy gently commanded, “don’t call me ‘young master’.” He then told me his name before asking “Can you keep a secret?” “Yes, young….,” I began to say before correcting myself to continue, “Suffuscus, I can keep a secret.” “Well,” the boy whispered, “I once met you on the Vatican, although I didn’t appreciate then that you were an Imperial slave. If my presumption, from the way you acted together, about someone in your group that day is correct, it was your very considerate and generous lover who gave me, a dirty street urchin at that moment, a gold coin that changed my life!” I chose not to disabuse the boy of the fact regarding the ownership of my person at the time because I was, of course, still in the service of the late unlamented Caius Silius. Instead, my shocked recognition of the waif’s dirty face, compared with the immaculately clean visage of the young patrician guest before me, was now instant, despite the great disparity in cleanliness, causing me to be temporarily speechless. The boy, however, was not surprised at my shock and carried on regardless. “Please,” he continued, “as agreed, keep our previous meeting a secret, although I’d be happy if your lover knew how his kind largesse had transformed my existence, as long as he felt able to remain quiet about the knowledge too.” By now, I had managed to recover some of my composure to provide the requested reassurance. “I can guarantee,” I declared, “young master….sorry, I mean Suffuscus, that both my friend and I won’t tell another soul.” Gaius and I were later to honour my declaration. Suffuscus and I were now interrupted by the Emperor’s need for another flask of wine, which I was required to taste. The 10 year-old therefore departed from my company, to that of Britannicus and Titus, with a delightful smile and promise. “I’ll try to look you up for a longer chat next time!” he advised. As I continued to perform my duties, tasting my Imperial master’s food and drink, I, of course, did not appreciate that the guests that night included five future Emperors. Instead my mind began to focus on the new year ahead. I could not help but reflect on the remarkable events of the past twelve months, which to me had seemed to fly by. I was soon to become 17, although I still looked a couple of years younger, and wondered what would have happened by the time I was on the brink of my 18th birthday. In fact, my life, and that of many others, would suffer a significant turn for the worse during the year ahead, which was to begin particularly badly for me. The guests at the Imperial New Year party eventually began to drift away during the hours after midnight, having consumed more than their fill of expensive food and drink and after expressing their formal thanks and farewells to their purple-clad host. Most of the men’s voices were now slurred but this did not matter because so too was that of the Emperor. Many of the boys present, all early risers, had already departed before they fell asleep, not least Britannicus, who had been carried to his bed in the arms of Apollinus. This early end to my Greek friend’s duties for the day enabled him to proceed to Palaemon’s party. However, I was required to stay until almost the conclusion of the now drunken affair before finally being given permission by Claudius, along with the few other slaves still present, to retire to my quarters. Our dismissal had presumably arisen because the Princeps and his remaining friends wanted no witnesses to their continuing inebriated activities. I left behind several flagons of already tasted wine for the small residual intoxicated group to consume whilst they talked and played dice until dawn. It was too late for me to go to Palaemon’s party and anyway I was too tired, evidenced by the fact that I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, having discarded my short-sleeved tunic. However, I was not now naked because, unlike the slaves of Caius Silius, Imperial servants were permitted underwear, although mine comprised a very skimpy loincloth, its size presumably reflecting the brevity of my main garment’s hemline. Despite the general conservatism of palace service, young attractive menials were still encouraged to display as much of their lovely natural attributes as decorum allowed. (Imperial palace, Rome, next morning, dies Mercurii Kal. Ian. DCCCII A.V.C., in the 8th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [Wednesday, 1st January, AD 49]) ‘Qui statuit aliquid parte inaudita altera, aequum licet statuerit.’ (‘One who passes sentence on something without having heard the other part is not just, even if the sentence is just.’) - Seneca the Younger Normally, after such an occasion like the New Year dinner, I could expect to be allowed to slumber until late morning before I was woken by another slave so that I could wash and groom myself to be ready to be present whilst the Emperor breakfasted. I would then usually be with my Imperial master until he invariably enjoyed a late afternoon sleep before his bath. This 1½ hour break gave the opportunity for Gaius, with Narcissus’ permission, to visit me daily to continue my education and our love affair. We were always alone in my quarters, apart from the inevitable Hylas, because Apollinus would be attending Britannicus at that time of day. Similarly, my Greek friend and Petronius would have the benefit of being without other company when they met after the young prince had been put to bed. However, they would generally have the opportunity to spend much longer with each other because my fellow 16 year-old’s duties were now finished for the day, whereas I still had to be present at Claudius’ usually lengthy cena and after-dinner drinking session. I was actually dreaming of my first meeting of DCCCII with my beloved Gaius, scheduled for that afternoon, when I was unexpectedly woken early. However, it was not the usual slave of the Imperial household who performed the chore. Instead, it was two strong Praetorians, commanding “Get up, you wicked thief!” Before my shocked and still tired mind could appreciate what was happening, I was being dragged by soldiers once more towards the palace’s basement dungeons, this time dressed only in my sparse white and purple loincloth. On the way, I begged my unrelenting escorts to appraise me with what I was supposed to have perpetrated. However, all the men would say was “You know full well, you evil robber!” I was eventually acquainted with the charge against me when Narcissus came to visit me in the small dark dank cell where I had been deposited. “You have stolen the Emperor’s gift from Herod Agrippa,” the Imperial secretary advised me, whilst incongruously clearly admiring my barely clothed form, which was trembling through both fear and chill. “Will you confess now or do I you have to put on the rack once more?” the freedman then enquired. “I’m innocent,” I pleaded, “I know of no such theft!” However, Narcissus’ reply was one of obvious disbelief. “You lie,” the Imperial secretary admonished, “because you were you the final slave to be present at last night’s dinner and the goblet was last seen just before you left. No other servants had any opportunity to go anywhere near the cup so late.” “But I didn’t take it,” I continued to plead. However, Narcissus claimed “It must have been you, unless you’re suggesting that one of the Emperor’s honoured guests is a thief.” My awful predicament immediately came clear in my mind, previously befuddled by confusion and terror. I could only propound my innocence by slandering my Imperial master’s friends or their companions. “But I didn’t take it,” I pleaded again, but this time more quietly and suddenly without conviction because I began to wonder whether I might somehow have accidentally taken the goblet with me when I was finally discharged for the night. However, my thought was immediately disabused when Narcissus advised “We’ve searched your quarters but didn’t find the goblet. The Emperor wants his precious possession back, so you’ll now tell me what you’ve done with it, either in this cell or in the torture chamber!” “But I didn’t take it,” I quietly and uselessly repeated in exasperation and desperation. “In which case,” announced an increasingly angry Narcissus, “it’s back to the rack for you and also for your friend, Apollinus, in case he also played a role in the theft. Perhaps it was he who disposed of the goblet, as he was absent from the palace last night!” Narcissus’ declaration of intent appalled me but not now for my sake, for I could not let Apollinus suffer on my behalf. I therefore immediately sank tearfully to my knees before the Imperial secretary and begged “Please forgive me. I confess that I stole the goblet and passed it to an intermediary who promised me some reward after it had been sold. However, I swear that Apollinus had nothing to do with the theft.” “And the identity of the intermediary?” Narcissus asked. “I’m afraid I don’t know,” I responded, whilst my desperation to save Apollinus from harm allowed my imagination to embark on a vivid fiction, “we decided that it was best if I remained ignorant of his name and anything else about him. I’ve only met him twice. The first time was when he approached me, when I was on an errand outside the palace, to suggest that I steal the cup. The second time was when he came to collect the goblet. It was only afterwards, when I’d handed the vessel over, that I realised how stupid I’d been because, of course, I’m unlikely to ever see him again. He’s bound to keep all the proceeds from the theft to himself!” “I never imagined you a thief,” Narcissus now declared, with obvious disappointment and fury, “or capable of such stupidity. Of course, you’ll have to pay severely for your dishonesty and betrayal of the Emperor’s trust. There’s a new Imperial galley that has just been fitted out in Ostia harbour, including being equipped with its contingent of galley slaves. As we don’t want a person such as you in the palace anymore, you can serve the Princeps for the rest of your life on that ship. However, given your age and still diminutive size, I reckon they’ll have to strike your bare back with much leather to encourage you to work the oars as much as your adult fellows. Nevertheless, I suppose that many of the sailors on board will seek compensation, for the extra efforts they have to make to ensure your fair contribution to the motion of their vessel, by also using you as their regular bumboy, in the customary absence of women at sea. Your undoubted beauty suggests that you’d actually be better qualified for such sexual service!” After relating these appalling words, describing my imminent future, Narcissus gave me once final look of disgust before turning on his heel to leave my cell. However, he paused briefly to appraise me of an afterthought. “You can additionally start your naval service,” the Imperial secretary announced, “by being publicly flogged on deck!” Soon afterwards, my tremulous, almost naked form, also departed my tiny prison, between the same two Praetorians who had dragged me there. A couple of hours later, I arrived, frightened quaking body lying in the back of a covered wagon, with hands and feet immovably bound, on the quayside in Ostia, which was bathed in winter sunshine. I was then quickly extricated from my transport and dragged up the gangplank of the nearby newly built trireme. There, my diminutive loincloth was removed and I was tied naked to a punishment post located in the middle of the ship’s deck, obviously in anticipation of much use by troublesome galley slaves. My hands were fastened to a metal ring far above me so that I had to support my fully stretched body at the other end on tiptoe. My immobility was further enhanced when rope firmly attached my ankles to the wooden pole. As I stared in trepidation and shame past the post in front of me towards the harbour mouth and the waiting sea beyond, I became aware that many of the ship’s crew had gathered round me in obvious happiness. They began to examine and debate, with many loud ribald comments and much laughter, the merits of my gelded form, whilst waiting for the entertainment to start. Then, an officer, presumably the trireme captain arrived, accompanied by a bare-chested monster of a man, fat belly dangling over the leather apron that covered his loins. It seemed clear to me that the latter was the person who kept the galley slaves in order because he carried a vicious-looking whip. I somehow knew that, on this occasion, a last-minute intervention would not save me from the humiliating anguish to come, or from the horrible existence that now beckoned. Not only did the first agonising lash of the whip quickly and expertly strike my vulnerable rear but also I heard the captain issuing orders to sail as soon as my flagellation had been completed, because the local tide was now right. Despite the fact that it was currently mid-winter, when ships rarely plied the potentially dangerous waters of the Mare Internum, the officer also mentioned his vessel’s proposed destination. The word “Aegyptia” resounded in my ears, as the sublime curves of my nude buttocks received the second excruciating hit from thin but tough leather, which issued a loud crack, as if the tailpiece was outpacing sound itself. I cried out in great anguish as this blow was slowly followed by eight more, across my back, bottom and the rear of my legs, creating vivid red stripes in the process, which gradually assumed darker hues. Meanwhile, the ribald commentary and laughter of the watching sailors increased in intensity. My deeply hurt and now bloodied naked body later remained tied to the punishment post, whilst the trireme left the safety of the new harbour walls for the choppy sea and chilling winds beyond. The voyage to distant Aegyptia had begun. Tears still flowed down my cheeks but not now just because of my physical pain. My deep despondency was increased by realisation that I was journeying not only to the opposite end of the Roman Empire from my own homeland but also somewhere far away from my beloved Gaius and his friends, who would be powerless to help me. I simply could not believe the appalling reality of another sudden change in my fortunes. My cold, nude, pained and tearful form was still attached to the punishment post when darkness, rain and the regular noise of oars ploughing the waves started to settle on my new sea-going home. However, these environmental factors were quickly far from my mind after a queue of sailors began to gather, and I felt my striped and painful bumcheeks being prised apart for the first rampant cockhead to press against my tight pink sphincter. Meanwhile, back in Rome, Agrippina was consoling Claudius for the sudden loss of another food taster by seductively sitting on the Princeps’ knee to begin her incestuous campaign to become Empress. However, what was about to be perpetrated on the trireme, in the Mare Tyrrhenum section of the larger Mare Internum, was not solitary heterosexual incest but multiple homosexual rape. My lips uttered another loud shriek when my rectum was completely and viciously filled, without any preparatory foreplay whatsoever, by the first of many voyages of penile naval exploration my helpless bound body was to experience that night. (To be continued in chapter XXV – ‘Journeys’)
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