His remark created ripples of laughter around us. Nero’s eyes held mine, and his smile faded; even then he was plotting how he could escape Agrippina’s influence. I reported this to my mistress but she refused to believe it.
‘He’s only testing the water,’ she replied.
‘Was it wise to hire Seneca?’ I asked. ‘Remember what the old humbug said; “If you preach austerity to a young man, eventually it makes him want to savour the opposite”.’
‘Seneca is doing a good job,’ Agrippina replied absent-mindedly. ‘My son is being schooled well, so when the Emperor dies, may the Gods forbid, Nero will be Caesar.’
Of course, in power everything has its own reaction. For four years Agrippina was given the run of Rome, removing opposition, managing the Senate, bribing the guards, keeping the freedmen in her camp. Opponents such as Lollia Paulina were given short shrift but Agrippina had no blood lust, preferring instead to influence people, to ease the way, to open doors through guile. Through Pallas she could organise the Senate and eventually the Praetorian Guard. Whoever controlled that crack regiment had a strong power base: they would be the ones to hail the new Emperor and take care of any opposition. Agrippina had already distributed largesse and, of course, as the daughter of the great Germanicus, the troops held her in high regard. Agrippina made sure that such adoration remained constant and eventually persuaded Claudius to appoint her nominee, the thickset, capable and loyal Sextus Burrus, as Commander of the Praetorian Guard. He was an administrator rather than a campaigner but a man Agrippina thought she could fully control.
Only one obstacle remained: the freedman Narcissus. Although he had joined Agrippina in bringing down Messalina, he had soon realised he’d merely replaced one Empress with an even more powerful one. Narcissus withdrew from Agrippina’s circle, studying her tactics carefully. He did not oppose Agrippina or Nero openly but instead, reminded Claudius constantly of the ‘sweet days’ he had enjoyed with Messalina, and emphasised the rights and duties of poor Britannicus. Claudius had quickly tired of each of his wives and Agrippina was no exception. Once Narcissus realised he was sowing on fertile ground, his campaign gained pace. Britannicus was invited back to court, fawned on and favoured, and Agrippina knew that she would have to strike quickly.
Chapter 13
‘It is part of human nature to hate those whom you have injured’
‘What am I to do with Claudius?’
In the spring of the fourteenth year of Claudius’s reign, Agrippina was openly showing her discontent. She was thirty-nine years of age but looked much younger, despite the occasional white hair or faint lines on her olive-skinned face. Power and influence can create eternal youth, or at least the illusion of it. During those years of power, Agrippina had very rarely consulted me: Nero was the beginning and end of her life, and Agrippina suspected I did not share the same, unquestioning adoration of her son. She would hear nothing even slightly derogative about the young man that I secretly called ‘The Monster’. Nero was a superlative actor in front of those who mattered, but allowed his mask to slip with me. He would sidle up to me and make the occasional salacious remark about a senator’s wife or tell me in vivid detail what he would like to do to some person who had inadvertently offended him. He was an apt pupil of Seneca; the old, yellowing-skinned hypocrite had a tongue coated in acid and all the compassion of a striking viper.
‘What am I going to do about Claudius?’ Agrippina repeated.
We were seated in one of the gardens outside the palace, a sinister place that had once been used as a paupers’ burial ground. The outlines of the death-pits were still visible. During the time of Augustus its use as a cemetery was abandoned and it had been lawned over. Seventy years of lying fallow had benefited the rich soil, in which almost every bush and flower known to the empire bloomed. The heavy scent of flowers was almost overbearing but few birds flew or nested there. Many claimed it was a place of darkness, and the many palace sorcerors and soothsayers would often go grubbing amongst the abandoned graves for bones and herbs to make their magical potions.
‘Are you listening, Parmenon?’
‘I always listen, oh, August one,’ I retorted.
‘Don’t be sarcastic.’ Agrippina pinched my arm. ‘You are getting old, Parmenon.’ She tousled my hair. ‘There’s a good deal of silver here, but even more in the bank, eh? Do you ever think of leaving me, Parmenon?’
I pointed to a butterfly resting on a flower.
‘I’m like that, Excellency. I would love to fly but I am always drawn back.’
Agrippina leaned down and tightened the thong of her silver-gilt sandal, before dabbing at the sweat on her neck.
‘You’ve heard the rumours?’
‘I’ve heard Lepida is dead.’
‘Yes, the mother of the wild whore.’ Agrippina stared up at the sky. ‘She had to go, Parmenon. Blood will out. I killed her daughter and, in time, Lepida would have struck back at me or Nero.’
‘They say the guards threw her into boiling water before the executioner took her head.’
‘I didn’t ask for that,’ Agrippina replied.
‘Nor did Narcissus, Domina, and he’s the real problem, isn’t he? Whispering his poison into Claudius’s ears, openly courting young Britannicus?’
Agrippina was half listening: her mood had changed as her rage began to boil.
I know she had heard the reports. Claudius himself was now inviting Britannicus to supper parties, begging his forgiveness, toasting him with his goblet, saying he would show the people a proper prince. The Emperor was appearing more and more at the Senate House to plead that both Nero and Britannicus should be treated fairly. More dangerous were rumours that Claudius was threatening to change his will. His relationship with Agrippina had soured, and he was fond of repeating the witticism that it was his destiny to suffer the wickedness of wives, and to punish them.
‘You are going to attack, aren’t you?’ I asked.
‘Next week it will be May,’ Agrippina replied. ‘I tell you, Parmenon.’ She looked over her shoulder satisfied that the guards were in position. ‘If I do not move now, this time next year none of us might be here. I don’t fancy another long period of exile. Are you with me, Parmenon?’
‘That’s a stupid question, Domina. If you fall we all fall with you.’
‘You could retire,’ she smiled. ‘Buy a villa or farm out in Campania. Marry some pleasant girl, have children, raise a son.’
‘A son like Nero, Domina?’
‘You have it all wrong.’
She rose, patted me on the shoulder and walked away.
I didn’t have it wrong but Agrippina was intent on proving herself right. She moved slowly, carefully, distancing herself from the Emperor. She began to act like a recluse but took me more and more into her confidence. I once saw a wolf in the arena, which, although famished and dangerous, only attacked when it was sure which of his intended victims was the weakest. Agrippina was the same. She perched above Claudius’s court and watched carefully. Pallas was her man, body and soul, and she thought the same of Burrus and Seneca; but Narcissus was now her enemy. She studied them carefully one by one, weighing their worth, all the time refusing to rise to Claudius’s baiting.
It was late summer before she was finally ready to strike.
I was told to stay up late one night and act as door-keeper, whilst the slaves and servants were dismissed to their quarters. Agrippina was evidently expecting a visitor, but in fact, it turned out to be two. I recognised one immediately: the fat-faced, small-eyed, balding court physician Xenephon. The other was a diminutive, pale-faced, red-haired woman with strange green eyes and heavily painted lips. She was dressed in tawdry finery except for the pearls around her neck which were genuine enough. She was Locusta, the descendant of a long line of famous poisoners. After Locusta had been seen and dismissed, Xenephon was treated to the pleasures of both board and bed. Agrippina had discovered that the Emperor had secretly changed his will. He’d also confided to this treacherous physician how tired he was of Agrippina’s ambitions. Now that both Xenephon and Locusta were in Agrippina’s net, they would find it impossible to extricate themselves.