‘This has never happened before!’ he whined. ‘Never before!’
I looked round the atrium. Macro had disappeared. The door to Tiberius’s chamber was guarded by two burly German ruffians who stood, shields in one hand, drawn swords in the other. The Minion came up and clapped me on the shoulder.
‘I hope that bitch hasn’t been up to mischief.’
I clicked my tongue and smiled. ‘Don’t be frightened,’ I mocked.
Another hour passed. The doors of the chamber were thrown open and Macro beckoned us forward. We walked in. Tiberius looked as if he hadn’t moved. Gaius was standing beside him, immobile as a statue. We went to kneel before them.
‘Not you!’ Tiberius’s voice grated.
I looked up. Tiberius was gesturing at the Minion. He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the garden wall.
‘You certainly know how to lie!’ Tiberius accused. ‘You lied to your Emperor! So, let’s see if you can fly as well!’
And, before the Minion could protest, the two German auxiliaries who had followed us in, grasped him by the arm and dragged him out into the garden. They pulled him to the edge of the parapet and tossed him over. Dreadful screams shattered the silence. Tiberius made himself comfortable on the chair.
‘You see, Macro,’ he joked. ‘I told you he couldn’t fly!’
Chapter 6
‘No sober man dances, unless he is mad’
For a while the Emperor sat in silence as if savouring what had happened. Caligula had stepped back so the Emperor couldn’t see his face, shaking with giggles. The two German mercenaries watched the body fall and then left.
I heard a singing bird trill out its sweet song, and the buzzing of a bee, which surprised me as it was so early in the season. I could only wonder whether I would be next?
‘Kneel back, Parmenon.’
I did so.
‘Look at me! Forget Sejanus’s advice! Look at me!’
I did so. The Emperor studied me closely.
‘Are you a kinsman of Sejanus?’
‘A very distant one, Excellency.’
‘And can you fly, Parmenon?’
‘No, Excellency, I can only swim.’
The Emperor threw his head back in a neighing laugh. ‘Are you a liar, Parmenon?’
‘Excellency, I do not know what the truth is.’
‘Ah, quite the philosopher. Now, Parmenon, relax, you are not going to fly. Just repeat your message.’
Caligula had moved even further back, his face now alert. He shook his head imperceptibly and tapped his cheek. ‘Do not mention me,’ he was saying.
I learnt a lot during that interview. Caligula was acting to survive. He was plotting against the Emperor. Macro, who must have seen his secret gestures, was his accomplice. I repeated the secret message, Agrippina’s last words to me. Tiberius’s face grew livid.
‘Do you know what she means about Drusus?’ he snapped.
‘I don’t understand, Excellency. Drusus is a prisoner in the Palatine.’
‘She wasn’t talking about that Drusus,’ Tiberius retorted. ‘My son was also called Drusus!’
I swallowed hard. Of course, I’d forgotten that. On his death the rumours had come thick and fast. Many said Tiberius’s son had died of overindulgence, whilst other rumours claimed he’d been poisoned. Tiberius took a nut, crushed it in his hand, daintily picked out the fragments and ate them.
‘I have a strong hand, Parmenon. Do you know I can poke a child’s head and smash his skull?’
He didn’t wait for an answer.
‘Macro!’ He summoned the commander of the guard forward.
‘I want letters despatched to Rome. Our friend Parmenon will stay here for a few months. Well, well, we’ve got business, we’ve got business!’
I was dismissed with a flick of the fingers. My enforced sojourn at Capri had begun.
Tiberius moved as carefully as a spider weaving its web. He enjoyed the game: he sent letters to Sejanus swearing eternal friendship, and extending his condolences on the death, ‘from a fever’, of his Minion. He wrote that he wanted me to stay for a while. He even began to hint that Sejanus would be given tribune powers and be allowed to marry Tiberius’s widowed daughter-in-law, Drusus’s wife. At the same time, passage to and from the mainland was strictly controlled. For the rest I discovered how bizarre Tiberius’s existence on Capri really was. Sometimes he could be indulgent, at other times ruthless. A soldier who stole a peacock from the aviary was crucified on the cliff tops. On another occasion when Tiberius was being taken by litter from one villa to another, the bearers stumbled over a bramble bush in their path: the centurion responsible was flogged within an inch of his life.
Tiberius’s sexual exploits fascinated me. Capri was a hotbed of sexual intrigue. Macro was married to a beautiful, dark-haired girl called Aemilia. To win Caligula’s favour, Macro acted as her pimp and Aemilia was a constant visitor to Caligula’s villa. Tiberius’s practices, however, were more bizarre. All the rumours about him were true. He had his own private bawdy house where sexual extravangazas were staged for his secret pleasure. Young men and women from all parts of the Empire, adept in unusual sexual practices, would be encouraged to congregate before him in groups of three or four to excite his flagging passion. This bawdy house consisted of a number of rooms decorated with the most obscene pictures and statues available. It even boasted a small library with erotic manuals from Egypt so these sexual athletes could learn exactly what was expected of them.
Macro led me on a tour of all this, like a Roman taking a provincial visitor round the city. The rooms were opulently decorated, drenched in perfume, furnished with couches and stools for the Emperor and his coterie of favourites. Spy-holes had been drilled in the walls, floor and ceiling. The ‘Sexual Athletes’, as Macro called them, were confined to their own private apartments. They wined and dined on the most exquisite aphrodisiacs and were under strict orders to save their energies for the Emperor alone. Macro also took me into the woods. Special glades had been set aside where boys and girls, dressed as Pans and nymphs, prostituted themselves in caves or grottoes. No wonder the wits had re-named Capri ‘the Place of the Goat.’ Macro hinted at other obscenities.
After from my initial interview with the Emperor I became, to all intents and purposes, Macro’s creature. On one occasion he asked about Agrippina. Was she well? How did she look? Her husband Domitius? Had she taken new lovers? I was pleased I could tell the truth: I knew nothing.
‘What will happen?’ I asked, trying to change the topic of conversation.
‘Be careful,’ Macro warned. ‘Tiberius can be excitable and as changeable as the moon. Letters have been despatched to Rome with conflicting messages. Sejanus doesn’t know whether he’s on his head or his arse, if he’s still the Emperor’s favourite or not.’
Macro scratched the tip of his nose.
‘Tiberius could play this game for months, even years. He might forget it or change his mind.’
‘And me?’ I asked.
‘Are you so desperate to get back to Agrippina?’ Macro sneered. ‘Quite a little courtesan, isn’t she? Her brain teems like a snake pit. You should be careful, Parmenon. Tiberius might decide he can’t do without Sejanus.’
‘And Caligula?’ I asked.
Macro breathed in.
‘According to all the rules, Gaius Caligula should be dead. To understand Caligula you have to understand Tiberius’s mind. I can speak to you bluntly, Parmenon, because no one would believe you if you were to repeat what I say. Tiberius is nourishing Caligula as he would a viper; that young man is to be Tiberius’s revenge on Rome.’
‘And yet you support him?’ I bit my lip immediately.
‘Do I?’ Macro taunted, drawing his brows together. ‘I support no one, Parmenon, except the Emperor. You are new to this game, aren’t you?’ He drew closer. ‘Remember the first and only rule: keep your mouth shut!’