‘Domina!’ I hissed.
‘Parmenon, either be sick, go to sleep, or sit down!’
The sea breeze shifted. I heard a slight creak, and the sound of oars. The captain on the bridge was waving the lantern. I raced up the steps and ran to the rail, staring out into the night. As the mist parted, I gasped in terror. A huge warship, a massive trireme, oars out, its prow carved in the shape of the cruel face of an eagle, was bearing down, intent on ramming the bireme.
‘Agrippina!’ I screamed.
Commotion broke out below, where some of the rowers had now glimpsed the monster which was about to smash us. I heard a sound behind and turned, drawing my dagger. Without hesitation, I thrust it straight into the pilot’s stomach. The half-raised club dropped from his hand as he slumped, choking on his blood. The captain lunged, flinging the lantern at me. I ducked to one side and lashed out with the dagger, cutting a deep jagged slash across his chest. I ran down the steps, but it was too late: the trireme struck us with a mighty crash. The awning covering Agrippina collapsed, and one of the poles dealt Creperius an ugly blow on the side of his head. I could do little for him. I pulled the awning up and dragged Agrippina from her couch. Acerronia was screaming, and I slapped her on the face, pulling her to the side. Figures loomed out of the darkness. The trireme was now pushing the bireme, threatening to either tip it over or crush it beneath its weight. The night air was rent with screams. I ripped Agrippina’s stola from her shoulders, pushed to the side of the bireme, already dangerously low in the water, and tipped her over. Acerronia and I joined her in the cold water.
‘Swim!’ I screamed.
Agrippina needed no second bidding. Light and swift as a dolphin, she struck out, putting as much distance between herself and the sinking bireme as possible. I followed, but Acerronia, behind me, was spluttering and calling out. Agrippina was a splendid swimmer, but Acerronia was not. I glanced back, saw lantern lights and heard the calls of officers on the trireme. Treading water, I saw Acerronia panic. She swam back towards the trireme, straight into the pool of light thrown by the torches and lanterns.
‘Help me!’ she screamed. ‘Help! I am the Empress!’
An oar moved towards her: the usual tactic employed to drag a man from the sea. Acerronia swam towards it. The oar moved viciously like a club and, instead of allowing Acerronia to grasp it, struck her viciously on the side of the head. Acerronia spun round. For a few seconds I glimpsed her white face above the water before she sank. Agrippina was calling out to me. I swam in the direction of her voice.
‘An accident?’ she spluttered.
‘Murder,’ I replied.
I seized her by the arm, allowing the waves to float us away from the trireme. I stared out, but the bank of mist had now thickened. I caught glimpses of distant lights and recalled that the pearl fishermen often came out here at night. I struck out in their direction, Agrippina following. The fishermen already knew something was wrong. As one of their craft, a torch in its prow, came thrusting through the water towards us, we called out. Voices replied. I grasped an oar, making sure Agrippina did likewise and strong burly hands plucked us from the sea.
The oyster men had no idea whom they had picked up, until Agrippina stretched out her hand, displaying the imperial ring. She was nursing a wounded shoulder and a cut to her cheek, but the physical wounds were nothing to those inflicted on her soul. She sat in the boat, a haggard, ageing woman, dripping with sea water, staring sightlessly into the darkness. I bribed the fishermen with some of the coins I still had in a purse stitched to my belt to cross the bay into the Lucrine Lake. They happily agreed, navigating its narrow channel and crossing a sand bar which protected us against pursuit. We landed safely, and, half-carrying Agrippina, I staggered along the beach and up the trackway to her own villa. I aroused the servants, who took one look at Agrippina and knew what had happened. Even as I shouted orders, most of them backed away, owl-eyed, pale-faced, and within the hour most of them had fled. I placed Agrippina in the triclinium and brought metal dishes full of burning charcoal, towels, napkins and heavy military cloaks from the stores. I made her strip off, then dried and changed her before wrapping a blanket round her. I warmed some wine and forced her to drink. The villa fell quiet except for the occasional patter of feet, and the howling of a dog. Agrippina sipped at the wine before being violently sick. I moved her to another part of the room, where we sat on stools.
‘You are still wet,’ she murmured. ‘Dry yourself off.’
I stripped, changed, wrapped one of the blankets round me and rejoined her. Agrippina had now grown more composed. She stared out through the window at the starlit sky.
‘We are creatures of the night, Parmenon,’ she whispered. ‘It’s finished, isn’t it?’
‘It’s always been finished,’ I replied. ‘Ever since Poppea walked into Nero’s court.’
She sighed. ‘They’ll have to complete the job, Parmenon. They won’t let it rest. The slaves and servants have fled. Poor Acerronia.’ A tear trickled down her kohl-smeared cheek. ‘And Creperius, gone with the rest.’ She nudged me. ‘You should flee too. They’ll kill you. They won’t allow any witnesses to survive.’
‘I’ll stay. My life, Domina, is yours.’
She turned, her eyes wrinkled up in a smile, that dazzingly beautiful woman I’d met so many years earlier.
‘You are good, Parmenon.’
She kissed me lightly on the lips and brushed my face with the tip of her finger.
‘If I had listened to you. .’
‘You can still do that,’ I urged. ‘You could flee, seek refuge with the legions.’ My voice faltered.
She pressed a finger against my lips.
‘You and I both know that’s not possible. Every road and trackway will be watched and sealed.’ She put down her wine and stretched her hands towards the charcoal brazier. ‘Isn’t it strange, Parmenon? We first met on the feast of Minerva, at the games in the amphitheatre near the Campus Marius.’
I cradled my own cup. My mind going back. .
Chapter 4
‘Woe is me: I think I’m becoming a God’
‘Sic Habet! Sic Habet! Let him have it! Let him have it!’
The crowd thundered in one great roar, people on their feet leaning forward, thumbs pointing to the ground: the populace of Rome shrieking for a man’s life. I watched the arena, where Sullienus, in Thracian armour, had brought down Callaxtus the net man. The latter hadn’t fought very well; he had been clumsy and frightened, although admittedly, I myself was not the most stalwart of warriors. Although it was early spring the amphitheatre was hot and close. The stench of cooking sausages, oil, human sweat and blood seeped everywhere. Sullienus turned, sword raised towards the imperial box draped in purple and gold. I was sitting at the back. The Emperor was not present: Tiberius was ensconced to Capri, taking his cronies, vices and power with him. Rome was under the careful scrutiny of Sejanus, Prefect of the city, Commander of the Praetorian Guard.
As Caesar’s right hand, Sejanus also controlled the secret police, which is where I come in. My father had died, his remains buried somewhere in the Teuterborg forest, and my mother had not long survived his death, wasting away to skin and bones. Before she died, though, she had hired a scribe and dictated a letter on my behalf to her distant kinsman Sejanus. He hadn’t bothered to meet me himself, but had delegated the task to one of his minions. I had expected a posting in the army, as I had done some military service or, in view of my education, a benefice in the courts or treasury. Instead Sejanus’s minion (I forget his name but remember his face), sat on the corner of a table and scrutinised me carefully.