The viewing slot opened.
‘Quaestor Publius Junius Caesennius Paetus, here to see the Lady Livilla at the request of the Emperor and the Senate,’ he said slowly and clearly.
The slot closed but the door remained shut.
‘It seems that the good lady is not too keen on seeing us,’ Paetus observed after a few moments. ‘Can’t say that I blame her. Centurion, break it down.’
‘Sir!’
At a barked order from the centurion four men came rushing forward with a small battering ram. After a half a dozen resounding thumps the door burst open; Vespasian and Paetus walked through the vestibule, followed by the centurion, into a lavish atrium. Vespasian had never seen so many gold and silver ornaments. Vases, statuettes, candelabras and bowls, all of differing sizes, were placed around on low, polished marble tables with ornate legs, again of either silver or gold; chairs and couches, upholstered in deep reds and golds, punctuated the room and echoed the colours of the frescoes that adorned its walls, depicting the bloody wars of the Titans in the days before the coming of man. Four towering black marble columns, streaked with grey, supported the ceiling at the four corners of the impluvium, in the centre of which was a huge bronze statue of Saturn castrating his father, Caelus, with a sickle.
‘How dare you break into my home,’ a low, female voice said threateningly.
Vespasian and Paetus spun round to see a beautiful, slender woman in her mid-forties glaring at them from one of the many doorways off the atrium. She was unmistakably Antonia’s daughter, fine boned and haughty; but whereas Antonia’s eyes were clear and wide hers were dark and mean; the lines that ran from their corners curved down from frowning, not up from smiling. Her mouth was small and her lips full, like her mother’s, but they were set in a sneer that seemed to be permanently fixed upon her ivory-skinned face.
‘We are here to escort you to your mother’s house,’ Paetus replied, stepping towards her.
‘On whose authority and for what reason?’ Her voice had become wary and even lower.
‘On the Emperor’s and the Senate’s authority; you are to come with us immediately.’
‘I will do no such thing until you tell me for what reason.’
‘You have been found guilty of your late husband Drusus’ murder and are to be handed over to the Lady Antonia so that she can decide your fate,’ Paetus answered, stopping just in front of her.
She fixed him with a vicious glare. ‘I am dead then.’
‘Not at the hand of your own mother. Tiberius has shown mercy by giving you to her.’ Paetus layed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Come with me, lady.’ Livilla’s right fist came up from her side and thumped into Paetus’ chest; she turned and ran, leaving Paetus standing motionless, his hand still stretched out. Vespasian instantly sprang forward and, constricted as she was by her silken stola, caught her by the hair within a few paces. Shrieking like a harpy and writhing like a Babylonian whore, Livilla tried to break from his grasp; long nails slashed at his face and sharp teeth drew blood from his arm. Behind him men of the Urban Cohort came flooding in through the door to hold back members of Livilla’s household rushing to their mistress’s aid. As he wrestled with her she forced him around until he could see Paetus over her shoulder. He had sunk to his knees. Blood soaked his tunic and toga and he gazed down incredulously at the golden hilt of a dagger that protruded from his chest.
With an animal roar Vespasian tightened his grip on Livilla’s hair and pulled back his right fist, causing Livilla to go limp in submission; a look of terror filled her eyes. Vespasian pulled her upright by the hair, looked at her in blind fury and spat in her face; with a rolling snarl of hatred he slammed his fist into her full lips. Blood exploded from her, covering her face and splattering his as his blow split her lips in several places and shattered her front teeth. He let her drop and she crumpled, howling, to the floor; savagely kicking her belly in the hope that she might be pregnant, he stepped over her as Paetus collapsed slowly onto his back.
Kneeling down, he lifted his friend’s head in his hand; his skin was waxen and pallid.
Paetus looked up at him with fading eyes. ‘Bit of mess, eh, old chap,’ he whispered. ‘Keep an eye on young Lucius for me, won’t you?’
‘I will, my friend,’ Vespasian replied with tears welling up in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Silly me, I thought that she was just a woman.’ The breath left him in a slow rattle and his eyes glazed over. Vespasian laid Paetus’ head down and passed the palm of his hand over his face to close his eyelids.
‘Have some of your men guard his body until his wife comes to claim it, centurion,’ he ordered, ‘then follow me and bring that bitch with you.’
Vespasian stepped out into the warm sun and descended the steps with Livilla, bloodied, face swollen, moaning, walking unaided behind him, escorted by the centurion and four of his men. His eyes were hard and set in a fixed stare as he tried to control himself; all he wanted to do was to rip Livilla’s throat out with his teeth. How could Tiberius have been so merciful towards her?
‘Livilla!’ shrieked a shrill female voice from across the street.
Apicata stood behind the screening century of the Urban Cohort brandishing a long, thin-bladed knife. Her clothes were in tatters and her cheeks and arms were covered in fresh, deep scratch marks; blood lined her fingernails.
‘Livilla, look at me, you Gorgon’s miscarriage!’
Livilla looked up and focused through puffy eyes.
‘I did this to you, Livilla,’ Apicata screamed triumphantly. ‘It was me. I wrote to Tiberius. I told him how you got the poison from your physician Eudemus, and how Drusus’ body slave Lygdus administered it. They were both tortured and confirmed it.’ She cackled hysterically and waved the dagger at Livilla. ‘You took my husband and caused the death of my son and now they’ve taken my other two children from me, but I don’t care, Livilla, I don’t care because I’ve got you — you’re finished, Livilla, finished! And this is what I think of you.’
She lifted the knife above her head, placed both hands on the hilt and, with another high-pitched scream, forced the blade down and under her lower rib; she convulsed and doubled up. Then she lifted her face to Livilla, blood seeping from the corners of her mouth and her nostrils.
‘This is what awaits you!’ she howled and, with a look of wideeyed, manic concentration, she forced the blade up into her heart and died without another sound.
Gaius was waiting for Vespasian in Antonia’s atrium looking agitated.
‘Where’s Paetus?’ he asked as Vespasian stepped through the door.
Vespasian made no reply. One look at his expression and a quick glance at Livilla’s ruined face was enough to tell the story.
‘Oh, I see,’ Gaius mumbled. ‘I’m very sorry, dear boy.’
Vespasian nodded in acknowledgement as Livilla was led past him, now visibly shaking. Vespasian stared at her with hatred. ‘She deserves to die, uncle, but she’ll only get banished to live out her days on some island. No mother would order the death of her child.’
‘This is an unnatural day,’ Gaius said, almost apologetically. ‘I have to go back to the Senate. I’m afraid you’re going to have to join me once you’ve delivered Livilla to Antonia.’
‘As you wish, Uncle,’ Vespasian replied numbly. ‘What’s happening now?’
‘It’s rather unpleasant but I can’t see how it can be avoided,’ Gaius said, shaking his head and walking out.
‘Bring her this way,’ Pallas said, appearing through the columns at the far end of the atrium. ‘The Lady Antonia is waiting.’
‘Thank you, centurion.’ Vespasian walked forward and took hold of Livilla’s arm. ‘I can manage her now. Wait for me outside.’
Vespasian, leading Livilla, followed Pallas through the house until they came to the door that led down to Antonia’s private prison where Rhoteces and Secundus had been incarcerated. Pallas pushed it open and descended the damp stone steps.
Livilla started to struggle as she caught the scent of fear and desperation that wafted up from the forbidding, dank corridor below. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she shrieked, squirming in Vespasian’s strong grip.
‘To see your mother, bitch,’ he growled, pushing her through the door.
Antonia was waiting for them in the low corridor outside what had been Rhoteces’ cell.
‘That it has come to this’, she said, shaking her head and regarding her daughter with cold, menacing eyes, ‘grieves me more than you will ever know, Livilla.’
‘Mother, Mother, please,’ Livilla cried, breaking away from Vespasian and running to kneel at Antonia’s feet
