elaborating methods, cajolements and threats which Sejanus might have employed to suborn the boy. When Sigmund returned, I called him before me in private and heard his report, and embraced him with a warmth that sprang from relief as much as from affection.
I wrote to Sejanus saying that I had heard rumours of mutterings against my authority, even of conspiracies against my person, among the officers of the Praetorians. I would be grateful to him if he would investigate this matter and, before acting, supply me with the names of any whom he had reason to suspect of such disaffection. He replied that he had absolute confidence in almost all these officers whom, he reminded me, he had himself appointed after the most careful scrutiny. Nevertheless any barrel might contain a bad apple, and he could not deny the presence of such. He mentioned a number of names, the chief of which, he said, was one Macro, a Calabrian, '… the sort of man who is discontented with life because no regard which he is paid can ever measure up to his own estimation of his qualities'. Moreover, he added, this Macro had been a familiar of first Nero and now Gaius. He was an associate of some of those turbulent young men who had been inciting Gaius to disaffection, and to that treasonable course which he had been pursuing till my invitation to Capri temporarily removed him from such evil influences. 'Sigmund,' I said, and paused, unable to bring myself to ask him if he loved me, if 1 could trust him, if he would risk his life on my behalf. It has never been in my nature to make such requests of people; never since I was deprived of Vipsania. 'Master,' he replied, and waited. His lips curved into a smile. 'Not 'Master',' I said. 'Call no man 'Master', dear boy.'
I lay in bed, weak as from a nervous fever. The sunlight streamed into the chamber. It illuminated the golden down of the boy's cheek. I longed for the comfort of his strength, the reassurance of what I could never demand from him. I patted the bed, and indicated that he should perch there.
'You are troubled,' he said. 'I have known that for a long time. Remember one thing: I owe everything I possess to you, even my life. I can never forget that. Whatever you desire of me, I shall do.'
His words shamed me. I think I wept to hear him speak like this. Certainly the easy tears of old age filled my eyes. For a little, I could not speak.
'It is your life,' I said, 'that I may be asking of you again. But there is no one else whom I dare to trust. Do you fear Sejanus?'
I did not look at him as I asked the question, so that I do not know if his face paled or his eye flashed. 'No,' he said, 'I hate him, but that is different.' 'You hate him?'
'He forced himself upon me. He made me do things which disgusted me.' Sigmund blushed at the memory. 'He told me that if I didn't, then he would tell you things which were not true but which he would make you believe. I said you wouldn't, but he assured me that he could always make you believe what he wanted you to believe even when you didn't want to. So, so he made a woman of me, and worse than a woman.'
There was nothing I could say of comfort. Things remain with you and cannot be cured by words. But my new anger with Sejanus was fiercer and it was enflamed or corrupted by jealousy or envy, for he had done what I had denied myself. And so I abandoned prudence and told Sigmund what I wanted him to do. Sigmund left the island the next day and journeyed to Rome. He travelled alone, and in disguise. I had given him an imperial pass as protection but told him that he must not use it except in extremity. It was better that his connection with me should be unsuspected. I gave him also my seal ring, and warned him that he would be in danger if it was found on his person, for it would be too easy to charge him with theft. He smiled: 'I'll stick it up my arse,' he said. I wished I could have brought myself to return his smile. In his absence I received another letter from Sejanus. He purred with pleasure at the honours I had showered on him, the most recent of which was his appointment to the priesthood of the Arval Brethren. He said he was overwhelmed by the honour I had paid him by proposing him as the successor of Germanicus and Drusus as my partner in the consulship. He hinted that the award of the tribunician power would make his satisfaction complete. He spoke of the delight he experienced in his marriage to Julia Livilla and his consciousness of his unworthiness to be a member of the imperial family. Then he announced that Nero was dead: The wretched prince seduced one of his guards and persuaded him to abet his escape from Pontia. The other guards suspected the liaison however and reported it to me. I commanded that a closer watch be kept, and the pair were apprehended as they embarked in a boat. A struggle ensued in which both were killed. I regret to have to inform you that Nero displayed lamentable cowardice in his last moments, and died pleading for his life like a woman. The arrogance of the letter disgusted me.
'It seems,' I said to Antonia, 'that he no longer troubles himself even to make his story consistent.'
'Drusus will be next,' she said, 'then my poor Gaius, unless you act…'
'What can I do?' I said, for I dared not reveal my plans even to Antonia. Nor could I bring myself to tell her that it was superfluous to murder Drusus. If the reports I received were to be believed, his sufferings had deprived him of his wits. He raved – foul-mouthed filth, mostly directed at me, but also at his mother Agrippina – and refused to eat. When Sigmund arrived in the city he went to a tavern in the Suburra kept by a German of his own tribe, who had been one of my slaves and whom I had established in this occupation after twenty years of honest, if infuriatingly stupid, service. (It is not true, by the way, that all Germans are stupid – some have a tiresome cunning, and some are, like Sigmund, indeed intelligent; yet Romans always think them stupid because even the most intelligent retain a naivety which is foreign to our nature. It arises, I think, from an inability to comprehend the complexity of civilised life and civilised beings, and manifests itself in a dreamy mooniness, which is certainly irritating, and of which even Sigmund is not innocent.)
Sigmund explained to Armin the tavern-keeper that he was in hiding from the police. He knew that Armin would accept this as sufficient reason for subterfuge, but would be alarmed if Sigmund gave any hint of the importance of his mission. Then he explained that the matter could be cleared up if Armin would undertake to get a message to the Praetorian camp. This puzzled Armin who couldn't understand why a fugitive from the law should wish to make such a contact, but when Sigmund said his trouble was all a matter of misunderstanding, Armin nodded his head and agreed to arrange for an intermediary; misunderstandings were the sort of things which Armin could understand. Indeed misunderstandings had always seemed to permeate his life.
So the message was delivered and Sigmund endured anxious hours while he waited to see if the fish would bite. I had instructed him to make the message cryptic; it was framed in such a way as to suggest to Macro that Gaius was threatened with danger and in his terror would denounce him unless he came to his assistance. I told him to put it in this way because there was always – I was sure – a germ of truth in the allegations which Sejanus brought against those whom he had determined to destroy, and I thought Macro would be frightened. I wanted him frightened. He would not dare to be my tool if he was not afraid.
He arrived at the tavern by night, suspicious, heavy-eyed, still crapulous from last night's drinking-bout. When he found only a young German there, he suspected a trick and called for his guards. Sigmund, however, produced my ring. This, I had warned him, was his moment of greatest danger, for Macro might refuse to consider the implications of its being in his possession. Macro's first reaction was indeed to arrest him for theft. He began babbling of treason. 'If you talk like that,' Sigmund said, 'you are baring your own neck for the sword. Sit down.' The Praetorian sub-prefect obeyed.
'If I had stolen it,' Sigmund said, 'I wouldn't be such a fool as to have made arrangements for you to come here, would I?' Macro scratched his head, and said he would like some wine.
'This is a German house,' Sigmund said, 'you can have a mug of beer.'
Then he told him that Sejanus had written to me accusing him of treasonable conspiracy; he was involved in a plot with Gaius against my life. There was enough truth in this for Macro to start trembling.
'The emperor instructed me to inform you,' Sigmund said, 'that he believes less than half of what he has been told. He has sent me to fetch you to give you an opportunity to put yourself in the right. He says you must immediately arrange for leave and accompany me secretly to Capri.' 'Secretly?' 'Of course…' Macro scratched his cheek and took a long pull of his beer. 'Don't you have a letter?' 'That's a foolish question.' 'How do I know this is not a trick?'
'You don't, but you will be in worse trouble if you think it is. If you choose not to accompany me -' Sigmund spread his hands wide – 'then he asked me to assure you that he will tell Sejanus to subject you to interrogation.'
'When I mentioned that, he was like wax in my hands,' Sigmund reported. 'The difficult part of our conversation was the first five minutes, as you predicted. But I am not sure, I am not sure that he is the man for you, since he is both a bully and a coward.' 'He's the only man there is,' I replied.
Macro was a lean curly-headed fellow, with an eye that might sparkle, I thought, in other circumstances, and a discontented twist to his mouth. When he spoke of Sejanus, a bitter note entered his voice, which trembled a
