Drusilla laughed, and tossed her auburn hair. 'It was a mere sisterly duty, and a not unpleasant one at that. Can it be, Milonia, you fear my brother will tire of your ever so professional efforts and seek out a sweeter, more succulent fruit?'
'Must we always return to this subject?' the third of the group, a plump young woman in a pink dress, interrupted. 'My ears ache at your constant prattle and you know how the servants talk.'
'I think you are just jealous, Livilla, that you and Agrippina are too plain to attract the Emperor's attentions,' Drusilla said. 'It is an honour as well as a pleasure to share his bed. Think of it, a pure bloodline direct from Augustus as our brother's heir. Better that than the fat little monkey who is the fruit of Agrippina's unattractive husband's loins.'
Agrippina gave Drusilla a cool smile. She had heard all this a dozen times before and was immune to her sister's mocking.
'The auguries have predicted that Nero will grow up to be a fine young man. He may never rule Rome, sister, but, under the direction of his mother, he will become a great Roman.'
'Oh, we all know your ambitions, Agrippina. It is fortunate, is it not, that Gaius is still unaware of their extent, but perhaps my tongue will slip when next we… meet.' Drusilla rolled the final word across her lips with a sensuality that gave it only one meaning, attracting a sour look from Milonia.
'I thought we were here to see this beast which so fascinates my husband. I hope it does more than plod up and down with that dirty young man on its back.'
Drusilla followed her gaze. 'Are we to look up to a slave?'
Rufus belatedly realized he should have dismounted to greet them. He slid from Bersheba's back and stood by her shoulder. Drusilla was only feet from him. He dared not look directly into her eyes, so he stared over her shoulder and his breath caught in his throat.
The girl looking back at him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Dark, liquid eyes seemed to feed off his spirit and the amused glint in them informed him she was quite enjoying his discomfort. She was the tallest of the six women, but, he guessed, also the youngest. Lustrous golden hair fell in folds over her shoulders, and her cherry-red shift bulged with the promise of full, rounded breasts. She must have been sixteen or seventeen and she carried a squirming, dark-haired child of about nine months old.
He tore his gaze away with difficulty, and found himself staring into Drusilla's eyes, which held a message so obvious it drove all other thoughts from his mind. She stepped closer to him, so that his gaze was drawn to the low-cut dress and the dark cleft between her breasts. She was so close he could feel her breath on his cheek and the scent of her perfume overwhelmed his senses. There was something else, too: not a scent exactly, more a hint in the air, but so powerful it had an instant effect on him. He gasped as he felt a disturbance below his tunic, and bit his lip hard in an attempt to control the uncontrollable.
Milonia gave a coarse laugh. 'Don't you have enough puppy dogs, Drusilla? This one isn't even house-trained.' She turned to the blondehaired girl whose beauty had so captivated Rufus. 'Aemilia, bring little Drusilla here. It is time for her feed.'
Rufus turned away, but Drusilla was still staring at him. 'What is your name?' she demanded.
'Rufus, lady.' His voice sounded as brittle as cracking ice.
'Well, Rufus,' she said, putting unnecessary emphasis on his name, 'tell us all about your pet.'
They stayed for an hour, watching as he showed off Bersheba's great strength and the delicate way she could use her trunk to pick up small objects. The only time Milonia and Livilla looked interested was when Bersheba let out an enormous fart. By this time they were competing to show how bored they were with both the elephant and its handler.
'Come, it is time we left,' Milonia said, attempting to reassert her position as the Emperor's consort.
'Wait, I have an idea.' All eyes turned to Agrippina and Milonia pursed her lips in annoyance. 'Our brother said the most amusing thing happened when the beast was bathed. Bathe the elephant for us, slave.'
Drusilla clapped her hands and bounced on her feet like a child. 'Yes, bathe the elephant.'
Rufus hesitated. He normally only washed Bersheba in the morning and she was a creature of habit. He was not sure how she would react. On the other hand, he had no choice but to obey the Emperor's sisters. They stared blankly at him, waiting for him to move, but the girl Aemilia gave him an encouraging smile and his spirits rose.
'Come, Bersheba.' He led her back to the barn and chained her to her block.
He filled the first bucket and steadied himself to throw it over her back, but then hesitated. He still had his tunic on. He was reluctant to remove it in front of the women, who now sat together on a slight rise, but it was his only one and if it became soaked he would have nothing else to wear.
He went into the barn and stripped to his loincloth, folding his tunic carefully, before returning into the sunlight. He tried to ignore his audience, but he felt every eye on him, and at least one of the women let out a short gasp of appreciation. He was a little selfconscious about being almost naked in front of them, but he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of. There was not a spare ounce of flesh on his body, and the exercises Cupido had taught him had given him the firm muscles of an athlete.
He tried to concentrate on the job of first soaking Bersheba and then brushing her down, but there was something disconcerting about being studied like an animal in one of the Emperor's cages. He caught Drusilla's eye and his attention wavered. It meant he didn't see Bersheba dip her trunk into the bucket. The explosive jet that hit him knocked the breath from his body and froze him to the marrow.
The women squealed with laughter and Bersheba joined in with a trumpeting hoot. When his senses recovered Rufus could only reflect that now he knew how Claudius had felt. Then the tone of the laughter changed subtly and he sensed something different in the way they were watching him. Drusilla uncurled from her position the way a particularly healthy cat will, and approached him with a frank smile.
'Well, Rufus, the elephant man, we must thank you for a fine performance. My brother was right: elephants can be most entertaining, and,' her voice dropped to a whisper, 'we all found it very revealing, very revealing indeed.' She let her eyes drop to the level of his groin.
With a laugh, she turned away and led the giggling females up the slope towards Caligula's palace. As they went, Aemilia turned to give him a shy smile.
XVI
How could anyone be so beautiful? He breathed in the musky scent of her dark hair and couldn't stifle a tiny sob. Her hand reached up to gently stroke his brow. 'Hush, brother. You are home now.'
Home? Yes, this was home, this comfortable blood-warm, silken cocoon within Drusilla's arms where no one could ever hurt him. He had always felt safe here, even in the darkest times on Capri. Those were the times when Tiberius, rot his corrupt soul, had roamed the corridors of the palace like some scab-ridden hunting dog seeking new depths of depravity to plumb. The nights he knew that only by being invisible would he be safe. He remembered how he would wait until Gemellus was asleep in the room they shared then creep past the guards to his sister. Did they really not see him? Or did they retain some spark of decency despite all they witnessed on that debauched cesspit of an isle? At first, all he sought was comfort and the security of her presence. He would hold her hand through the dark hours and she would whisper her tales of their father; tales of honour and courage, of a goodness that seemed to belong to a different world from the one they inhabited. In their childish eyes, Germanicus, most noble of Romans, shone like a beacon in the stygian gloom of their existence. Later it was different.