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NERO
By Pueros Chapter XX – Retributions (Villa of Caius Silius, Rome, Dies Saturni A.D. IV Id. Oct. DCCCI A.V.C., in the 7th year of the reign of the Emperor Claudius [or Saturday, 12th October AD 48]) ‘Rident stolidi verba Latina.’ (‘Fools laugh at the Latin language.’) - Ovid These fateful two days in my life started off as usual, with me attending to my young mistresses until Gaius, accompanied by the inevitable but delightful Hylas, arrived in the early afternoon to continue my education in Latin grammar and love. The beautiful 18 year-old from Volsinii was currently teaching me the art of letter writing before moving on to more intimate and passionate activities, although I have to confess that many subsequent written communications that I sent him could also be afforded the same adjectives. “Why do I have to write ‘sine cera’ at the end of such a business letter,” I was asking whilst looking at my clay tablet, “as surely this means ‘without wax’?” “Yes,” Gaius patiently answered, “the expression does seem out of place, doesn’t it, at least until I tell you its history.” “When Rome was developing,” Gaius advised, “there was a large demand for statues for the houses and gardens of the rich. However, as a consequence, the availability of good quality marble began to dwindle and unscrupulous suppliers and carvers would sometimes patch up and disguise defects in lower grades of the material with a kind of wax polish. Unfortunately, when sculptures finished off in this underhand way were placed outside, rain often wore away the paste to reveal the underlying blemishes. Smarter purchasers therefore started to demand that the goods were provided with a signed certificate guaranteeing that they had not been ameliorated or, in other words, were sold ‘without wax’. This written codicil eventually became more widely used and accepted as a proof testifying to the authenticity of the contents of a document itself. So, when you wish to finish off a letter by sounding genuine, you write ‘sine cera’!” As my hand extended out to touch Gaius’ knee, covered by his rich toga, I could not but help announce “Ego amo te, sine cera!” “I love you, without wax, too!” Gaius replied before reaching out to embrace me, with some dampness already evident in his lovely sensuous eyes.
(Imperial palace, Rome, same time) ‘Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus.’ (‘Love is rich with both honey and venom.’) - Plaustus (‘Cistellaria’) The marriage ceremony between Messalina and Caius Silius, which both main participants considered only to be temporarily bigamous, as the cuckolded original husband should soon be dead, was a desecration of normal ritual. The bride still wore her rich bridal gown, the ‘tunica recta’, or ‘straight tunic’, so-called because the garment was woven vertically. She also sported the traditional saffron shoes and flame-coloured veil, covering a garland of flowers and hair divided into six ringlets by a spear-shaped curling iron. However, no parents were present, just the couple’s closest allies, who were privy to their heinous plot, and some innocent menial palace servants, who were completely mystified by events. Messalina was escorted by the prostitute, Scylla, whom she had defeated in the recent whoring challenge. This courtesan was acting as the Empress’ ‘pronuba’, normally an honoured role that should have been filled by a married woman but perhaps, in the current circumstances, a notorious harlot was more appropriate. Scylla fulfilled her function in leading Messalina to the waiting Caius Silius and joining the couple’s hands. A priestess of Juno then led everyone in prayers to the goddess, and other deities associated with weddings, before a cockerel was sacrificed to Jupiter and the guests expressed their best wishes to the newlyweds. The subsequent feast should have taken place, according to custom, in the house of the bride’s parents. However, as the Empress’ widowed mother knew nothing of events, this was clearly inappropriate and so the banquet took place in the palace. For a similar reason, one of the most important rites of the feast, when the groom pretends to tear the bride away from her mother, in a re-enactment of the seizing and rape of the Sabine women, had to be foregone. Also, afterwards, Messalina was not escorted through the streets to her new husband’s home in a raucous torchlight procession, with flute players and guests and passers-by singing wedding songs and the rough banter of the Fescennine verses. Nor did the young Empress carry three copper ‘as’ coins, one for her new spouse and the others for his household gods and the deity of the crossroads. Additionally, she could not anoint and adorn with garlands the doorposts of her new home or utter on arrival the traditional dedication “Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia”, or “Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia”, symbolic of their new marital unity. Some present believed that the lack of such customary ritual, in a surely premature ceremony, foretold bad luck, as the newlyweds instead feasted late into the night, awaiting the vital news from Ostia, on receipt of which they would launch terrible retributions on their perceived enemies. (Ostia, same time) ‘Omen accipio.’ (‘I accept the omen.’) - Cicero (‘De Divitatione’) Claudius was thwarted in consuming his first delicious mushroom of the evening by a sudden and unexpected interruption from Sextus Afranius Burrus, a long-standing trusted servant of the Imperial family since Tiberius’ reign, and currently a Procurator, or treasury official, and unofficial close bodyguard of the Emperor. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Sire,” Burrus advised, “but I’ve just received what purports to be a very urgent message from Rome, which is for your eyes only." Claudius immediately looked with annoyance at the scroll in the Procurator’s hand and the tempting mushroom in his own palm. The Emperor paused briefly whilst his mind determined whether greed or curiosity should win the moment. In the event, the deciding factor was the seal the Princeps now noticed on the papyrus. (Imperial palace, Rome, same time) ‘Periculum in mora.’ (‘Danger in delay.’) - Livy (‘Ab Urbe Condita’) Narcissus, Claudius’ chief freedman secretary and de-facto prime minister, was not usually prone to panic, an attribute that had enabled him to advance his own cause and that of those he had served so successfully over the years. Such achievement was evident by the facts that his present master was currently Emperor, whilst the servant was amongst the richest and most powerful men in Rome. Nevertheless, Narcissus’ current worry was exemplified by his nervous agitation and the beads of sweat visible on his brow. He was presently in the late night company of Claudius’ other surviving principal freedmen, Pallas and the eunuch Posides. All three had felt uncomfortably insecure in their posts since the sudden demise, at the Empress’ behest, of their colleague, Polybius. Narcissus concerns included the fear that he might have left matters too late before acting. However, the freedman also knew that he had to provide the Emperor, who was still so infatuated with his wife that he would not have a word said against her actions or character, with irrefutable evidence of her treachery and the threat she posed to the Princeps’ life. Even then, the Imperial secretary appreciated that he would have to keep the pair apart because Messalina would undoubtedly convince her husband of her innocence, regardless of all evidence and logic, if she was allowed to talk to her spouse again. Narcissus had initially become suspicious of a plot against Claudius, involving the Empress and the Consul-designate, Caius Silius, when the former wife of the latter, Crispina, had visited the freedman with tales about where some precious palace artifacts were disappearing. He had then become certain when a handsome youthful slave of the Imperial household provided information that he had been asked to pass on in the event of Polybius’ untimely death. The slave had, since boyhood, been a lover of Polybius, who had set aside a large inheritance for his young paramour in his will. However, as the circumstances of the death of the former Imperial librarian had caused the man’s substantial wealth to be confiscated by the Emperor, the youth now had two excellent reasons, the death of his patron and the loss of his bequest, for revealing his news to Narcissus as requested. Polybius’s library had been entrusted with the safekeeping of the architectural plans to the Imperial palace. From them, the freedman had learnt about the warren of secret passages, with spyholes and most dating back to Augustus’ time, that pervaded the vast ornate structure on the Palatine. However, the librarian had kept the discovery to himself, hoping to further his career by using them to keep a literal eye on the activities of his master, mistress and colleagues. Polybius finally acquainted his young lover with some of his findings just before he made his dangerous and, in the event, fatal move to blackmail Messalina. The freedman had instructed the youth to pass the data on to Narcissus if the Empress somehow proved treacherous to his proposals, with the librarian thereby at least hoping to secure posthumous revenge. The information supplied to Narcissus had, however, been incomplete, although that was no fault of the young informer, who had not been fully appraised of all of the conspirators’ plans or his older lover’s planned coercion. The Imperial secretary himself also discovered that he could not rectify this through garnering more facts by using the secret passageways, of whose existence he had just learnt, because, after the experience with Polybius, Messalina and Caius Silius had become much more discreet when within the palace walls. Narcissus did not therefore know that an attempt to poison Claudius would be perpetrated whilst the Emperor was visiting Ostia. The Imperial secretary instead simply appreciated, from the plotters’ bigamous marriage, that the coup attempt must have started. Although they had originally formed an uneasy understanding with Messalina, Narcissus, Pallas and Posides all knew that their positions and very lives would undoubtedly be forfeit if the Empress’ plot succeeded. They therefore appreciated that the coup had to be prevented but wondered whether they should currently remain in the palace whilst events unfolded, recognising the control the young woman exercised over the main officers of the Praetorian guard in the resplendent residence. In the event, discretion overcame valour. Before Messalina felt sufficiently safe to despatch troops to despatch the trio, the three freedman left the capital, heading west on the main road to Ostia, protected by loyal soldiers from the garrison of Rome, collected on the way. (Ostia, same time) ‘Semel emissum, volat irrevocabile verbum.’ (‘Once released, the word flies irrevocably.’) - Horace (‘Epistles’) Claudius, much to the disappointment of some watchers, replaced the mushroom in the dish and broke his own Imperial seal on the scroll to unravel the document. The Emperor then suffered one of his more dramatic fits when he read the Latin script, in Narcissus' handwriting, on the papyrus. Meanwhile, the Princeps’ principal eunuch food taster also began to feel unwell. (Main Rome-Ostia road, a few hours later) ‘Iniqua nunquam regna perpetuo manent.’ (‘Unjust rulers do not reign for a long time.’) - Seneca the Younger Claudius had never been so afraid since the day of Gaius Caligula’s assassination. Although that day had also heralded his own succession to the purple, the present Emperor had at first thought that he too would be murdered by out-of-control soldiers. Claudius’ whole body was therefore twitching, with acute nervous tension, even more than usual when his ornate carriage, heading carefully for Rome and escorted by a small troop of Praetorians, unofficially but commandingly led by Burrus, met up with a similar procession coming from the opposite direction. The Emperor was a little relieved to find that the occupants of the other vehicle were his three remaining main freedmen. Claudius, Narcissus, Pallas, and Posides, along with Burrus, then tried to begin a crucial conference on the cool moonlit roadside. However, the Princeps’ nerves at first prevented useful discourse. “Am I still Emperor?” the panic-stricken Claudius kept repeating over and over. (Villa of Caius Silius, Rome, a few hours later) ‘Credo certe ne cras.’ (‘I believe with certainty that there is no tomorrow.’) - A Roman tomb inscription I was woken prematurely in my basement bed, just before dawn, by my master’s major domo, who was accompanied by two slave henchmen. “Get up, you lazy brat,” the major domo ordered, whilst he shook my body violently, “as the day of your master’s retribution has finally arrived. The cross has been readied for your crucifixion, which you’ll enjoy as soon as I’ve flailed your body with my whips, knives and red-hot irons!” (To be continued in chapter XXI – ‘Dawns’)
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