‘How did you. .?’
She laughed softly. ‘It’s the only logical thing he could do.’
‘What about that guard?’ I pointed to the door.
Agrippina put her arms round my neck. ‘He loves me, Parmenon. He fought with my father in Germany. He’s held Germanicus’s daughter in his arms, fondled my breasts, run his hand in the secret part between my legs. He’ll die for me if necessary.’
‘But you are married?’
‘Oh, Parmenon, you are such a fool.’ She pressed her body against mine. ‘And yet you are doing so well. We are here to survive, Parmenon. I’ll fight with every weapon I have.’ She let her arms fall away and stepped back. ‘Can’t you see that? Now you are off to Capri, where you are to tell the Emperor the truth: that I murdered Metellus because I was hysterical.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘Did Sejanus do that?’
‘Yes, he did.’
Agrippina laughed. ‘So, what’s the next step, Parmenon?’
‘I am to leave tomorrow. Any letter you give me must be handed over to the Minion.’
‘Sejanus really thinks I’m a hysterical, stupid woman!’ The words were spat out, each one full of hate and malice. ‘One of these days,’ she added, ‘I’ll make him face the truth.’
‘Why did we have to meet like this?’ I asked. ‘In the dark?’
‘Because they’ll be watching you, Parmenon. If you came straight back to report to me, they’d suspect your allegiance. So, come and see me tomorrow morning before you leave. I’ll give you the letter to the Emperor and something else.’
She brushed by me and was gone. The door opened and the Praetorian officer stepped through. He took me by the elbow and pushed me up the steps, along to the servants’ quarters, a refectory with trestle tables and stools. The Praetorian introduced me and turned to where a greasy-handed cook stood at the end of the kitchen.
‘He’s got loose bowels,’ he sneered. ‘Either that or he’s so frightened he almost crapped himself. Give him something light to eat.’
He joined in the general laughter and left, satisfied that he could explain the slight delay in bringing me from Sejanus’s chamber to this refectory, where possibly every man, woman and child was in Sejanus’s pay. I ate some highly spiced stew and rye bread. I remember the meal welclass="underline" I found it so difficult to eat, my hands kept shaking from fear and elation. I felt as if I had been put through a fire but come through unscathed.
A sleepless, restless night followed. In my dreams the ghouls clustered in. I was walking through Rome but every street and lane flowed with blood. Sightless eyes in severed heads perched on pikes gazed beseechingly at me, their lips still moving, spurting out blood as well as guttural sounds. I woke in a sweat, took some wine and returned to a more peaceful sleep. I once discussed such nightmares with Domina. She winked and nipped my cheek.
‘It proves you have a conscience, Parmenon,’ she mocked.
‘Don’t you dream, Domina?’
‘I sleep like a baby,’ she replied.
The next morning she certainly looked unruffled and unperturbed, when a servant took me up to her quarters. The room where Metellus had died was now cleaned and cleared. Servant girls thronged about, so I had to be prudent: most of them, if not all, were in Sejanus’s pay. Agrippina played her part to perfection. She led me over to a window recess and took a small scroll from beneath the shawl round her shoulders. She glanced down into the courtyard.
‘Your escort is waiting. Give this to my brother Gaius and no other. Tell him his sister loves him.’ She moved so her back was to the rest of the room. ‘Tell him,’ she continued slowly, ‘to play the man and act the part. Remind him of the herbarium I sent him. He is to study it closely for the source of his deliverance is in Capri.’
She turned as if to walk away but came back.
‘Oh, and tell the Emperor that Sejanus wants to become Drusus: that’s why Drusus has gone away.’
I stared perplexed. Drusus, her brother, was in a dark hole beneath the Palatine. She blew me a kiss and walked over to one of the servant girls, shouting for water and napkins and the clearest mirror they could find. I went down to the yard. The Minion was waiting, with a small cohort of troops and one of those huge four-wheeled carts to carry our baggage and other supplies for the Emperor in Capri.
‘You are ready, kinsman?’ the Minion mocked.
He looked me over from head to toe. I was dressed in a dark-green tunic and a rather threadbare cloak I had bought in the market place. He threw me a clinking purse.
‘When you return to Rome you really must visit my tailor.’
I caught the clinking bag, and saw that his hand was still outstretched. I gave him Agrippina’s letter, he broke the seal and studied it carefully.
‘Nothing treasonable,’ he sighed. ‘More’s the pity. Here!’ He tossed it to a servant. ‘Take that to His Excellency!’ He gestured at me. ‘Come on! Ostia awaits!’
I was given a sorry nag to ride. We left the Palatine by side gates and made our way through the narrow, stinking streets towards the gate to Ostia. It was late March. The sun was beginning to strengthen but really the seasons made little difference in Rome. It was always busy with merchants’ carts, pedlars’ barrows, the cookshops and wine stalls, the jostle and bustle of an empire. Soldiers forced their way through the crowds. Sailors and marines, up from the docks, searched out the ladies of the town. Fruit and vegetable-sellers shouted and sold their produce whilst trying to evade the market police. Astrologists, soothsayers, magicians and conjuring men clustered about. I heard at least thirty different tongues being spoken. I wondered if it was the last time I’d see this city. Some wit cracked a joke about the nag I was riding but I ignored him. We were soon through the city gates, onto the broad road to Ostia.
A trireme was waiting at a well-guarded quayside, Tiberius’s personal craft. It was a grim-looking vessel, it flew the imperial colours, but its sails were black and white, and the marines and officers on board were all dressed in dark leather corselets or tunics. It was the quietest ship I have ever sailed on and provided an insight into Tiberius’s suspicious mind. No one trusted anyone and the best way to keep your head was to have a quiet tongue. We were welcomed gruffly aboard, and our baggage was stowed away. Orders rattled out and we were soon leaving the quayside, as the trireme’s prow, curved in the shape of an eagle, sliced through the water. The fishing smacks and pedlars’ boats kept well away from our vessel, recognising the colours: the red and gold prow, the silver gilt along the rail and the dark sails.
The sea was calm, the winds favourable, the journey short; I was pleased to see the Minion was as seasick as I. At last Capri came into sight. Tiberius had chosen the island well. It was only a short distance from Rome, but well protected by its soaring cliffs which allowed only one natural harbour. Even as the trireme skimmed towards this, I glimpsed the armed men on the cliff tops. The Minion whispered to me that the Emperor had constant lookouts posted there with beacons at the ready, vigilant for the hint of any danger, any threat to the Emperor. Tiberius truly hated Rome. He viewed it as a place full of devils and went there as little as possible. He had even failed to return for his own mother’s funeraclass="underline" her corpse had begun to decompose before Tiberius allowed the funeral rites to take place. Sometimes he travelled to outskirts of Rome, issuing orders, receiving envoys and quickly departing.
Tiberius also hated religion. He had no time for the Roman Gods or any others and neglected the temple ceremonies. He was, however, deeply interested in the science of the Chaldeans: the soothsayers, diviners and oracle-tellers who might predict the future. The most famous, Thrasyllus, had once promised that Tiberius would be Emperor. Consequently, Tiberius took such men and women seriously. But woe betide any whom Tiberius considered charlatans. They were invited to Capri and, once they had completed their business, were taken down the steps along the cliff edge. If Tiberius was unhappy with his soothsaying guest, a burly guard had secret orders to tip him onto the rocks below. A sinister, ominous place!