‘Bring water and wood!’ he begged. ‘Prepare for my burial.’
He still believed he was in a play, acting out a part. Matters were brought to a head by the sound of horsemen outside; shouts, the jingle of harness and the clash of armour. Nero crouched in a corner of the cellar, one of the daggers at his throat.
‘Help me!’ he croaked.
I crawled across; his hand was trembling.
‘Faithful Parmenon,’ he whispered. ‘Why have you stayed with me?’
‘Because your mother asked me to.’
His eyes widened, his mouth opened to scream for the others congregated in the doorway at the other end of the cellar. I grabbed his wrist and forced the dagger into his throat. The sharp pointed edge cut deep. As blood bubbled out from both wound and mouth, he leaned forward, coughing, his eyes popping hideously. I could hear the shouts of the approaching Praetorians. Nero tried to touch me, his body trembling.
‘What-’ he muttered.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘What a great artist perishes in me. .’
‘Aye, Nero, and what a great monster,’ I replied.
His eyes were already glazing over in death, as Phaeon and the others held back the soldiers. I slipped down a narrow passageway, which led out to an old wine cellar, its roof long gone. I climbed the walls and in the distance I could see the soldiers crowding round their horses. I hid for a while then fled. Behind me, the last of the great Julio-Claudian family had died like a rat in that dirty cellar.
I allowed others such as his secretary to take the honour and credit of having persuaded Nero to die and thus save Rome and its Senate from a humiliating trial. I stayed out of Rome for months, watching as the generals fought over the empire. Galba, Otho, Vitellius: all reigned for a short while before they joined Nero in death, leaving the empire to that cunning, old fox Vespasian and his two darling sons Titus and Domitian. The stage had been cleared. Tiberius, Claudius, Agrippina, Caligula, Nero, and all their hangers-on, were gone like leaves in autumn: dry and dead, nothing but whirling memories. I bought a small farm near Misenum, to be close to Domina’s grave. I erected a proper tablet, laid flowers. I also married a local girl, who was soft and kind, more interested in the seasons, the sky, the soil and the sea than the harsh lust for power. She became a follower of the Christos and tried to persuade me to take their rites. I refused. One night she cuddled close and spoke into my ear.
‘The blessings of Christos,’ she whispered, ‘will protect you against the demons of the underworld.’
For the first time in a long, long while I threw my head back and laughed uproariously. Demons! Fear of demons? Why should I be frightened of demons? I’ve lived with them all my life!