Nero

33

A month or so after the murders, Arruntius having to go off on one of his official tours, I'd arranged to take Silia away for a few days to Tibur, where an old friend had a villa. When I called to collect her she was sitting by the ornamental pool with her friend Junia Calvina.

'You're not ready, are you, darling?' I said. It hadn't needed genius to make that deduction; there had been no sign in the hall of the huge quantities of luggage Silia found necessary for even a night away from home.

'Titus!' She looked up and put a hand to her mouth. 'Oh, goodness, is that the time? I'm sorry, dear, but Junia came round with the news and we got chatting. I am all packed, though, really. It's just that the slaves haven't carried the stuff through.'

'What news?'

'About the divorce, of course.' Junia's plump face was grave.

'Whose divorce?' I pulled a chair across. Whatever Silia said, I knew we wouldn't be leaving for some time.

'The emperor's. He's divorcing Octavia.'

I sat down heavily. 'No!'

Junia nodded. 'The announcement's being made this morning.'

'Why? What possible reason can he give?'

'The official reason's barrenness, but of course that's a nonsense. Nero's never…' She blushed and started again. 'Octavia's still…' The blush spread until the poor girl looked like a beetroot. 'I mean, well, it's wrong, Titus. Totally impossible. I know.'

I remembered what Acte had said years ago about the marriage never having been consummated; and also that Junia Calvina was one of Octavia's very few close friends.

'You two talk while I get ready,' Silia said. 'I won't be long, dear.'

I watched her hurry off upstairs, frowning. Nothing to do with her lateness, I'd planned for that and we weren't meeting the carriage until noon. It was much more serious. I'd talked with Lucius several times over the past few days and he hadn't so much as hinted about a divorce.

'Octavia's horribly upset,' Junia was saying. 'She's dreaded this for years, and she's been so terribly careful you wouldn't believe!'

'You've seen her?'

'I was round early this morning. It's all Poppaea's doing, of course. Her and that beast Tigellinus. You know they've been…getting together recently?'

'So I've heard.'

'Do you think the emperor knows?'

I'd wondered about that one myself. Not that Lucius would necessarily care, even if it were true.

'I doubt it.'

'But it's so unfair!' Junia's face twisted with anger. 'Poppaea really is such a bitch, Titus! Goodness knows what Nero sees in her!'

'He sees his mother, darling,' I said.

She gave me a startled look: Junia always had been naïve, very much like Octavia herself, which was why they were so close.

'Do you think so?’ she said. ‘The empress? But that's dreadful!'

'Lucius has never really loved anyone else, dear. If there's one thing the poor darling can't understand or abide it's innocence.'

'So he'll persecute Octavia for nothing while he'll let Poppaea get away with murder! What kind of…' She stopped, her eyes wide. 'Oh, Titus!'

I had a cold feeling in my own stomach. 'Octavia's quite safe, believe me. She's one of the imperial family, and she's far too popular for Lucius to risk harming.'

'You're sure?'

'Of course I am. Now sit down like a good girl.' She did, and began chewing her fingernails. 'Besides, Lucius isn't…' It was my turn to stop; I'd been about to say, Lucius isn't a killer. 'Lucius isn't interested in anything but marriage with Poppaea.'

'That's bad enough!'

'Oh, I agree. Only…'There was a movement on the stairs. Silia reappeared carrying a light travelling cloak.

'Titus, I've had a lovely idea,' she said. 'Why doesn't Junia come with us?'

'I don't see why not.' It would certainly take the girl out of herself. 'Marsus won't mind, I'm sure.' Marsus was the friend with the villa.

'Junia, dear? You haven't any other commitments, have you?'

'No. Only Octavia might — '

'Darling, you are not staying behind just to mope!' I stood up and helped Silia on with the cloak.

'I quite agree, Titus,' Silia said. 'Octavia will be fine, dear. Besides, Tibur's beautiful at this time of year, and from what Titus has told me his friend is an absolute pussy-cat.'

I certainly hadn't said anything of the sort. Marsus was my ex-banker, a dry old stick of seventy, ugly as sin, and possessed of all the conversational skills of a block of marble. A pussy-cat he was anything but. However, I wasn't going to contradict Silia in such a good cause. Junia would find out for herself.

'All right.' A smile lit her broad face for the first time. 'If you're certain he won't throw me out. Just let me nip back home and put my little bag together.'

Ah, me. One learns by experience. I sent a slave off to cancel the original arrangement and order the biggest coach he could get, for mid-afternoon.