Nero

45

I only found out that something out of the usual was happening when I went round by arrangement at the end of April to see how the decoration of the new palace was progressing. The gates were closed and guarded. Even my written invitation had no effect on the Praetorians in the gatehouse.

'Sorry, sir,' the commander said as he handed it back. 'No one goes in or out till further notice.'

'Is there anything wrong?' A pointless question: there were twice the number of troops on duty, including a contingent of heavily armed Germans.

'Couldn't say, sir.' The man was polite enough but firm. 'If you've a message for the emperor I'll see he gets it.'

'No, no message.'

I went away very worried indeed. Trouble had been brewing for months. Lucius's attempts to shift the blame for the fire on to the Christians had failed, and his building schemes had caused fresh outrage. The Treasury was almost empty already, the provincial governors were screaming at the latest tax demands, and to make things worse he'd sent agents out to the eastern provinces to requisition bronzes and other items to stock the rooms and gardens of his Golden House. He was not, to put it mildly, currently popular with anyone.

Instead of going straight home I called in at Silia's newly-rebuilt house on the Palatine. I was half hoping that Arruntius would be there, but he wasn't. Silia herself was looking flustered.

'But haven't you heard, Titus?' she said when the slave showed me through into the atrium. It still smelled of fresh paint.

'Heard what?'

'About the plot, of course.' Although it was the middle of the day her hair was still loose and she was wearing no make-up. She looked old, and a little haggard. 'Half the Senate's under arrest, if the rumours are true.'

I sat down. 'Arruntius?'

'No. Gnaeus is in Ostia. At least, I think that's where he is. I haven't seen him for days.'

'What happened?'

Her fingers were twisting the pendant at her throat. At any moment I expected the thin gold chain to break.

'I don't know,’ she said. ‘Not the details. But it's bad, very bad.'

I reached over, took both her hands and forced them into her lap. They were trembling.

'Now, dear,' I said firmly. 'Tell me.'

As these things go, the plot had been well thought out. The principals seemed to be Calpurnius Piso, the consul-designate Lateranus, two more senators, Scaevinus and Natalis, and one of the Guards commanders. Their plan was simple. At the games that day Lateranus would throw himself at the emperor's feet as if making a petition, grab his knees and bring him down; at which point the others would draw concealed daggers and stab him. Piso wouldn't be directly involved; as their choice of successor he would wait elsewhere with clean hands. The plan would have worked, too, if Scaevinus hadn't given the game away accidentally to one of his freedmen, who had immediately warned Lucius.

The most worrying thing was, as Silia said, Lucius's probable reaction. Any threat, especially a personal one, threw him into total panic; and when Lucius panicked he lost all capacity for rational thought. People would die soon, that was certain; a lot of people, innocent and guilty alike. It would be the treason trials all over again.

'The fools,' I said softly, still holding Silia's shaking hands. 'The bloody, bloody fools!'

'He has only himself to blame.' Silia's mouth was set. 'Gnaeus has been saying for months that something like this would happen. I only hope the poor lamb hasn't been silly and kept things from me.'

'He's in Ostia. You said so yourself.'

'Do you think that makes a difference?' she snapped. 'We dine with Piso regularly. And Lateranus gave us the use of his country house last summer. For the emperor that would be enough. More than enough.'

'Did he say when he'd be back?'

'No. But then he never does.'

I got up. 'Come home with me. Now.'

She shook her head; she was on the verge of tears. 'I can't.'

'Get out of Rome, then. Go to Baiae.' Arruntius had a villa there. 'At least until all this blows over.'

'No. It's better if I stay here and behave as if everything was normal. Besides, Gnaeus may be back at any moment. He must've heard the news too.'

I felt as if I was teetering on the brink of a precipice, but Silia was right. There wasn't anything anyone could do but wait, and act as normally as possible.

'Perhaps I can get in to see Lucius,' I said. 'Find out what the situation is.'

'Don't even try, dear. He won't be…himself.'

That made sense too. I could imagine from past experience the emperor's present mood. It would be safer to walk unarmed into a tiger's cage.

'Someone else, then.' I remembered the conversation I'd had months before. 'Thrasea Paetus.'

'Titus, don't be a fool! You'll only get hurt! Go straight home and do nothing!'

'Let me know when Gnaeus gets back.' I bent forward to kiss her forehead, and left.

The streets were full of soldiers; not just the Market Square area but every corner between the Palatine and the Quirinal. Otherwise there were few people about; the whole of Rome, it seemed, had become an armed camp empty of civilians. I didn't go to Thrasea's after all. Silia was quite right; visiting him would have been stupid in the extreme. In the end I took her advice. I went home, and waited.

The next month was as bad as anything under Caligula or Claudius. Tigellinus's secret police made dozens of arrests, mostly senators and Guards officers, and the accused were taken in chains to the Servilian Gardens where Lucius, Tigellinus and the egregious ex-Praetorian commander Faenius Rufus — now back in favour again — held an ad hoc court. Rumours were rife. The only bright spot was a message from Silia to say that Arruntius was safely home and was not, touch wood, implicated. So far, at least.

There were no parties these days, of course — one was never sure that host or guest might not embarrass one by being charged with treason the next morning — so I was in the study reading by the light of an oil lamp when Crito knocked on the door (he was back from the Alban villa, Christian slaves being now almost fashionable).

'A visitor, sir,' he said.

I was surprised; no one, as I say, moved over their own threshold that month if they could help it, even during the hours of daylight.

'Who is it?'

His lips set in a tight line. 'Ofonius Tigellinus.'

I don't think I let my feelings show, which was just as well because Tigellinus had brought himself through and was already standing grinning in the doorway.

'Bring us some wine, boy,' he said to Crito, 'and then fuck off.'

Crito ignored him and looked at me. I nodded. Tigellinus pushed past him and lay down on the spare reading couch. We stared at each other.

'Don't worry, Petronius,' he said at last. 'I haven't come to arrest you. Not yet, anyway.'

'I never thought you had, my dear.' I smiled at him, although my heart was thudding and he must have known it. 'And it's a pleasure to have such a distinguished and cultured guest under my roof.'

The grin didn't falter. 'Thank you. Was that him? Your tame Christian?'

'That was Crito, my head slave, yes. His beliefs are none of my business so long as he keeps them to himself.'

'The emperor would disagree.'

'The emperor knows my feelings quite well. And he's gentleman enough to respect them.'

This time the grin did fade. 'Meaning I'm not?'

'Opinions differ.' I set my book aside. 'You're entitled to think as you like. As am I.'

Crito came back with the tray. We both watched as he poured the wine and left, closing the door behind him. Tigellinus held up his cup.

'To justice,' he said. 'And to the death of all traitors.'

I drank. He watched me through narrowed eyes.

'Now,' I said, lowering the cup. 'If you haven't come to arrest me, just why are you here?'

'Oh, but I'm not here.' He smiled again, with his mouth only. 'At least not officially. But I did want to have a talk with you.'

'Talk, then.'

'You know Seneca's dead?'

It would have been dangerous to have shown the shock I felt. I kept my face expressionless.

'Really?' I said.

'Really. He slit his wrists this morning at his country house, on the emperor's orders.' He took a long, slow drink of his wine while his eyes held mine over the rim of the cup. 'One of his many country houses. I thought you'd like to know.'

'Thank you. I'm obliged.'

'You're most welcome.' He finished the wine and poured himself another cup. 'The old goat should've known better than to try treason at his age. We're well rid of him.'

'Treason? Seneca?'

'Of course. You're surprised?'

'Naturally I'm surprised! Did he confess?'

Tigellinus smiled. 'He didn't need to. Natalis denounced him.' Natalis, if you remember, was one of the conspirators. 'The old bastard was in it from the start.'

I set my wine down untasted.

'Well, my dear,' I said carefully, 'it was very kind of you to come and tell me all this, but it is getting rather late and — '

'"There can be slain no sacrifice more acceptable to God,"' Tigellinus murmured.

I froze. 'I beg your pardon?'

'I'm not going yet, Petronius. I haven't finished with you. I haven't even begun. You remember these words?'

'No.' It was a lie; I remembered them quite clearly. Seneca had spoken them to me, or to himself, that night in the Vatican Gardens.

'Strange. One of my people said you were with him at the time. You're sure you don't remember?' His eyes were boring into me.

'Oh, yes. You're right, of course. He was commenting on the burned Christian. Not the most tasteful of remarks, but we shouldn't speak ill of the dead, should we?'

Tigellinus laughed. 'A good try, Petronius. But not quite good enough. I thought you prided yourself on being a literary man. Surely you recognised the words?'

I was genuinely puzzled, and not a little alarmed. 'My knowledge isn't as exhaustive as your own, darling. No, I'm afraid I did not.'

'They're from one of Seneca's own plays, his Hercules Mad.' He was smiling broadly now. 'The full quotation goes — and correct me if I'm wrong — "There can be slain no sacrifice more acceptable to God than an unjust and wicked king." You replied — and again I'm speaking subject to your correction — "Indeed."'

We stared at each other in silence. The masks were down. Tigellinus wasn't smiling any longer.

'I told you. He was talking about the dead slave,' I said. 'At least, I thought he was.'

'Your thoughts, my dear, aren't worth a wet fart. I'm interested in words. His were treasonous, and you agreed with them.'

I picked up my wine-cup and drank, proud that my hand didn't shake.

'You said you hadn't come to arrest me,' I said.

'And I added, Not yet. I want you to suffer for a while first.' Tigellinus was grinning again. 'Darling.'

'Why?'

'Because I don't like you. I've never liked you.'

'And that's your reason?'

He shrugged. 'Do I need a better one?'

I shifted on the couch. 'Supposing I kill myself now?'

'You can please yourself. But you'd be a fool if you did. And who knows? You may be lucky. I might die before you after all.'

'Lucius would never believe I was a traitor. I'm not. You know that yourself.'

'He'll believe what I tell him. The poor bastard can't tell reality from fantasy nowadays anyway.'

That was true enough, although I hadn't expected Tigellinus to state the case so baldly. Lucius had always been convinced that despite all evidence to the contrary everyone loved him. Now, with the conspiracy, he was confronted with proof that they didn't, and his world had collapsed around him.

'What do you want, Tigellinus?' I said softly. 'Power? To be emperor yourself?'

He laughed. 'Fuck that! I told you years ago, when we first met. I only want to enjoy myself. Nero understands. He may be stupid in many ways but he knows I'm loyal.' He stood up. Carefully, deliberately, he poured the rest of his wine over the couch and dropped the cup. It smashed on the marble floor. 'A libation to Seneca's ghost. And to yours, Petronius. Don't bother to see me out.'

I lay for a long time after he had gone, staring at the closed door.