Obaritus, the naval centurion, came with us, for he wished to atone for his failure. Anicetus had his second- in-command, Herculeius, sound the alarm in the naval barracks and we managed to get hold of some horses. A number of soldiers came with us, running barefooted, and, with shouts and swinging weapons, they managed to disperse the crowds which were on their way to Bauli to congratulate Agrippina.
When we reached Bauli, dawn was just breaking as Anicetus ordered his men to surround the house. We broke down the door and chased away the slaves, who tried to resist us. The bedroom was dimly lit, and Agrippina was lying in bed, her shoulder swathed in warm wrappings. The servant girl with her fled and Agrippina raised her hand, calling after her in vain: “Are you forsaking me too?”
Anicetus shut the door behind us so that there should not be too many spectators, and Agrippina greeted us in a weak voice. “If you have come to ask after my health,” she said, “then tell my son that I am already a little better.”
Then she saw our weapons and her voice became firmer. “If you have come to kill me, then I do not believe it is on my son’s orders. He would never agree to matricide.”
Anicetus, Herculeius and Obaritus surrounded the bed a little awkwardly, not knowing how to begin, for Agrippina looked so majestic even on her sickbed. I stood with my back against the door, keeping it shut. Finally Herculeius struck Agrippina a blow on the head, but so clumsily that she did not lose consciousness. They had intended to knock her unconscious and then open her veins, so that the suicide statement would bear some resemblance to the truth.
Agrippina now abandoned all hope, exposed the lower part of her body, spread her knees and screamed at Anicetus, “Cut up the womb that brought Nero into the world.”
The naval centurion drew his sword and took her at her word. Then they all slashed and thrust at her so that Agrippina received many wounds before she finally drew her last rattling breath.
When we were convinced that she was dead, we each took some small thing as a souvenir from her bedroom while Anicetus ordered the servants to wash the body and arrange it for the pyre. I took a little gold statuette of Fortuna which was standing by the bed, in the belief that it was the one that Emperor Gaius in his day had always carried with him. Later it turned out that it was not the same one and I was extremely disappointed.
A messenger rode swiftly off to Nero to inform him that his mother had committed suicide. Nero hurried straight to Bauli, for with Seneca’s help he had already sent a message to the Senate informing them of the attempt to murder him, and he wished to see with his own eyes that Agrippina really was dead.
Nero arrived so swiftly that the servants were still busy washing and oiling Agrippina’s naked body. Nero stepped up to his mother, felt the wounds with his finger, and said, “See how beautiful my mother is even in death.”
Wood was piled up in the garden and Agrippina’s body was unceremoniously lifted onto a couch from the dining room and placed on the pyre. When the smoke began to billow upward, I suddenly noticed what a beautiful morning it was in Bauli. The sea was a shimmering blue, the birds were singing and all the spring flowers were in bloom in a riot of color in the garden. But there was not a soul to be seen on the roads. The people were confused and had hidden themselves indoors, for no one now knew what had really happened.
While the pyre was still burning, a troop of tribunes and centurions came galloping up. When Nero heard the sound of the horses’ hoofs and saw the line of marines give way before the horses, he looked around for an escape route. But the riders flung themselves out of their saddles and hurried up to press his hand in turn with cries of thanksgiving that he had escaped his mother’s criminal intentions.
The riders had been sent by Prefect Burrus to show the people what the situation was, but he himself had not come, for he was too ashamed. When Agrippina’s remains had been hastily gathered together from the ashes and buried in the garden, the earth was smoothed over the grave. Nero gave his mother no burial mound, in order that it should not become the object of political pilgrimages.
We plucked up courage and went up to the temple in Bauli to take a thank-offering to the gods for Nero’s miraculous escape. But in the temple, Nero began to hear bugle blasts and accusing cries in his ears. He said that the day darkened before his eyes too, although the sun was shining brightly.
Agrippina’s death did not really come as a surprise to the Senate in Rome or the people, for they were prepared for some shattering event. The night Agrippina died, tremendous thunderstorms had raged over the city despite the time of year, and lightning had struck in fourteen different sections of the city, so the Senate had already decided on the customary expiatory sacrifices. When the death announcement arrived, they did not change them to offers of thanksgiving. The suppressed hatred for Agrippina was so great that the Senate decided to put her birthday on the list of days which brought misfortune.
Nero had feared disturbances quite without reason. When he finally arrived in Rome from Naples, he was welcomed as if he were celebrating a triumph. The senators were dressed as if for a feast and the women and children greeted him with songs of praise, strewing spring flowers in his path from the seats which had been hastily constructed on either side of the route.
When Nero went up to the Capitoline to discharge his own thank-offering it was as if all of Rome had rid itself of a hideous nightmare. On this lovely spring day, the people were only too glad to believe Seneca’s false account of Agrippina’s suicide. The very thought of matricide was so terrible to the older people that no one wished even to think about it.
I had hurried on ahead to Rome, straight to Claudia, trembling with pride.
“Claudia,” I cried. “I have avenged you. Agrippina is dead and I myself was involved. Her own son gave the order that she was to be killed. By Hercules, I have paid my debt to you. You need no longer grieve over the degradation you have been made to suffer.”
I handed her the little Fortuna statuette which I had taken from
Agrippina’s bedside table, but Claudia stared at me as if I were a monster and raised both hands as if fending me off.
“I have never asked you to avenge me,” she said in horror. “Your hands are bloody, Minutus.”
I did in fact still have a bloodstained bandage on one hand, so I hastened to assure her that I had not sullied my own hands with Agrippina’s blood, but had only cut my thumb on my own sword in my haste. But this did not help. Claudia began to scold me, calling for the judgment of Jesus of Nazareth to fall on me, and in every way behaving foolishly, so that finally I could do nothing but shout back angrily in reply.
“If it is as you say, then I have only been a tool of your god,” I said. “You can regard Agrippina’s death as a punishment by your Christ for her crimes. And the Jews are the most vindictive people in the world. I’ve read that in their holy books. You are wasting your tears, weeping over Agrippina’s death.”
“Some people have ears and hear nothing,” she replied angrily. “Minutus, haven’t you really understood a single word of what I’ve been trying to teach you?”
“You’re the most ungrateful woman in the world, curse you, Claudia,” I said furiously. “I’ve tolerated your chatter about Christ up to now, but I owe you nothing more. Hold your tongue and leave my house.”
“Christ forgive my violent temper,” mumbled Claudia between her clenched teeth, “but I can no longer control myself.”
She slapped me across both cheeks with her hard hands so that my ears sang, then grasped me by the back of my neck and forced me to my knees, although I am taller than she is.
“Now, Minutus,” she commantled, “you’ll pray to the heavenly father for forgiveness for your terrible sin.”
My self-respect did not permit me to struggle with her and anyhow, she was unusually strong at that time. I crawled out of the room on all fours and Claudia flung the gold statuette after me. When I rose to my feet again, I shouted for the servants, my voice shaking with rage, and ordered them to collect Claudia’s possessions and put them outside the door. I picked up the Fortuna idol, the left wing of which was now bent, and went to the menagerie so that at least I could boast to Sabina of what I had done.
To my surprise, Sabina was friendly and even patted my cheeks, which were rather inflamed from Claudia’s blows. She accepted the statuette gratefully and listened willingly, if somewhat absentmindedly, to my account from Baiae and Bauli.
“You’re a man and braver than I thought, Minutus,” said Sabina. “But you mustn’t boast to too many people about what happened. The main thing is that Agrippina is dead. No one will mourn her. That harlot Poppaea, too, has received her due. After this, Nero would never dare divorce Octavia. That much I do know about politics.”
