Nero

17

He was in his private sanctum. I'd expected Acte, but we were alone.

'Titus! Oh, how nice!' He stood up, scattering papers from his lap. 'Acte said you might drop by. Come in and sit down, my dear!'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Oh, tosh! Tosh!' He had me by the arm. 'Call me Nero. Or better still Lucius, as Acte does. It makes you special. I feel we've known each other for years. Don't you feel that?'

'Yes, sir. Lucius.' I sat while he fussed around straightening things and pouring us each a cup of wine.

'I'm sorry the place is such a mess, but I won't allow the slaves in here.' He beamed. 'You know slaves. All sticky fingers and huge great feet. They do more damage to a room in five minutes than a marauding army. Here.' He handed me the wine. 'First of the new batch from Euelpides. I didn't forget, you see. You were quite right, it's miles better than Memnon's. Cheers.'

'Cheers.' I sipped the wine while he watched me closely.

'Good?'

'Good.'

'That is good.' He giggled and covered his mouth with his hand. 'I'm sorry.'

'Not at all.' I had been looking down at the papers he had let fall when I came in. Now I picked the top one up. 'Do you mind?'

'No. No, please.' He was blushing with pleasure. 'Go ahead. Only don't tell anyone else. Not just yet.'

It was an architect's elevation of an amphitheatre, and from the scale marked at the bottom a big one at that. I was a little taken aback: Lucius didn't like or approve of gladiatorial games, or wild beast hunts either. So what was he doing, I wondered, planning to give Rome another amphitheatre?

'It's not what you think, Titus.' He was grinning at me, and I felt again that curious sensation that he had looked into my mind. 'Oh, yes, it looks like something you fight in, but it isn't, not at all. That's the surprise.'

'Then what is it for? There isn't a great deal else you can do in an amphitheatre.'

'Oh but there is! Guess, my dear! Three guesses!'

'Sir, I really don't — '

'Lucius.'

'Lucius, then. I really don't have the slightest idea.'

His grin widened. 'I'll give you a clue. Olive, parsley…?'

The penny dropped. 'Greek games? Athletic contests?'

'Why not?'

'In Rome?' Serapis! There would be an outcry! He might as well have the Guild of Gladiators arrange a game of kiss-in-the-ring to take the place of the midday bout.

The emperor's smile faded. 'You don't think it's a good idea?'

'I think it's — !' I stopped, remembering why I was there. 'I think it's simply splendid.'

The smile was back, and he blossomed like a flower unfolding.

'Really?'

'Really. It's brilliant. So long as you don't tell anyone.' The amphitheatre would take two years to build, and it would be best to allow people during these two years to assume it was intended for the usual purpose. There was no point in raising hackles until the time came; by which time the lad might possibly have learned more sense. 'Of course you'll have to keep an eye on the work personally.'

'Will I?'

'Naturally. You know what contractors are, and this amphitheatre will become a showpiece. Where is it to be, by the way?'

'I thought Mars Field.'

'Good idea. Plenty of space. You must show me the site tomorrow and explain where all the various bits will be.'

'We'll go first thing.' He was almost jigging about with excitement. 'Oh, Titus, I'm so glad I told you first! Not even Acte knows!'

'I'm flattered.'

'Nonsense. But it is a secret. Don't forget, now, dear.'

'Of course I won't.'

'Wouldn't it be lovely if they caught on? Greek games, I mean. No more sword-fights or rioting on the terraces, just good healthy fun. We might even persuade people to join in, the way they do in Greece.'

Oh, sweet Serapis! I shuddered. The thought of how the majority of Romans would react if asked to jump a hurdle or pitch a discus in public like a prissy Greek made me feel distinctly queasy. Good healthy fun or not.

'I wouldn't mention that either for the moment,' I said carefully.

'No? You really think not?' He frowned. 'Perhaps you're right.'

I was looking round the room for an excuse to change the subject. My eyes fell on a beautiful Greek lyre with a mother-of-pearl-fronted sound-box and gold and ivory pegs.

'Do you play?' I asked.

He blushed again. 'A little. Would you like to hear something?'

'Very much,' I lied.

'You're sure?' Eagerly, he took the lyre down from its peg and cradled it in his arms like a child. 'You don't have to. Honestly. Not if you don't want to.'

'I'd be honoured.' That was enough. Lucius beamed. While he was finding a plectrum and settling himself in a suitable chair I sat back and prepared to be bored, if not deafened, in the cause of duty.

I was neither.

I'd expected something large and self-important, a Euripides choral song, perhaps, or — considering what we'd been talking about — one of Pindar's Pythian Odes. What I got was a simple little lament, beautifully played and beautifully sung. When the last note sounded I confess I had tears in my eyes.

Lucius laid the lyre aside diffidently, and with reluctance.

'I could've played that a lot better,' he said. 'Menecrates is giving me lessons, but I still haven't got the hang of the vibrato.'

'It was marvellous,' I said. 'Marvellous.' I meant it.

'Really? You really, truly liked it?' His face was alight.

'I really, truly liked it. Whose was it? Bacchylides’s?'

He reddened. 'No, it was mine, actually. Although Menecrates helped with the setting. You didn't think my voice was too weak?'

'No, not at all.' It had been a medium-strength baritone, with more body than his usual tenor, and I knew from experience that it would have carried to the back of a fair-sized concert hall.

'Only I've been doing exercises, you see.' Lucius sat down and put his hands together. 'Breathing exercises with weights on the chest. As well as following a strict diet. I'm glad it seems to be working.'

'I've heard professionals who wouldn't have done as well. It's a pity — ' I stopped. The silence lengthened between us.

'It's a pity I happen to be Emperor of Rome,' Lucius said quietly. 'That's what you were going to say, wasn't it, Titus? Oh, but I agree, darling. I agree completely.'

I said nothing.

'You know what I'd like to do? If I were ever good enough?'

'No.'

'I'd like to make the musician's tour of Greece. The big festivals. As a contestant.'

Jupiter! The establishment would burst a corporate blood vessel! 'You could.'

He shook his head. 'No, I couldn't. The ever-so-proper Roman Senate wouldn't let me. And anyway, I'd only end up winning everything I went in for. Do you think I want that?'

'No.' I looked at him directly; for, I think, the first time ever. 'No, Lucius. I don't think that you do.'

'Thank you.' He smiled and ducked his head. 'Oh, I'd like to win, of course, but I'd want to do it fair and square. And you see as emperor I'd never know.'

'Being emperor does have its advantages.' I shouldn't be saying this, but I suddenly felt a strange affection, very close to pity, for the young man. 'You can be a force for good.'

'I knew you'd understand!' He was on his feet. 'Titus, that is so right! That's exactly what I want, more than anything else! To drag this rotten, barbaric city out of the mud and give it a soul!'

I felt myself agreeing. Lucius had put his finger on the problem. That, I'd always felt, was precisely the trouble with Rome: she was red-necked and crass, she had power without subtlety. If she had a soul at all it was weighed down with rods and axes and money-boxes. For a moment I found myself totally and unconditionally on Lucius's side.

It was a pity he was mad.

There was a knock on the door, and Acte came in.

I'm sorry,' she said. 'I thought I heard shouting.' She looked at me, anxious, one eyebrow slightly raised. 'Is everything all right?'

'The emperor's been treating me to a private recital.' I kept my face straight.

Lucius laughed. 'You utter pig! You said you liked it!'

'I did.'

'He is good, isn't he?' Acte said proudly. Lucius hugged her and kissed the top of her head. 'Admit it, Titus!'

'Oh, he's excellent. Too good for an emperor.'

'Haven't I always said so?' Acte reached over for the lyre and put it in Lucius's hands. 'Again, dear, for me. Please.'

It was late when I got back home. I had half a dozen slaves with me, plus three torch-boys, so if there were any of the pseudo-Neros around they wisely decided to leave me alone.

I dreamed that night that Lucius was sawing me in half, from crown to toe. The dreadful thing was, that in the dream I didn't know whether to be glad or sorry.